It's the Great Gay Cruise, Sam Winchester
by bittersauce
Summary: Set after 4.06 YELLOW FEVER, the boys have to pose as a newlywed couple on a honeymoon cruise to catch a spirit. NOT wincest!
1. Chapter 1: all hands on deck

**uno**. _all hands on deck_

_- - - _

"Explain to me again how this is the plan, Sammy." Dean shifted his feet uncomfortably. His features were pinched as he maneuvered the narrow duffel bag crammed with his earthly belongings against the back of his shoulder blade. Sam Winchester heaved a sigh of irritation.

"There've been reports of a haunting."

"Right." The eldest Winchester nodded vapidly, his attention clearly straying as a group of chesty young women in their bathing suits passed by in a hurricane of perfume and suntan lotion.

"On an island."

"Sammy, I'm with you on that much."

"Then what exactly is it that you don't understand?" Dean ignored his brother's curt tone. "Are you still upset we had to leave the Impala behind? Because Dean, I shouldn't have to tell you that it's physically impossible to drive out across to the ocean to some forsaken sand dune with a whirlpool installed."

"There's a whirlpool?"

"_Dean_," Sam warned.

"It's just this cruise," Dean wheedled. The pads of his fingertips brushed against the back of his neck as he thrust his head to the left, unveiling a resounding crack.

"How else are we supposed to get there? You practically burst into tears when I tried to buy us plane tickets."

"Now you're just talking crazy," Dean said with indignation. "Just because I refuse to sit in a giant death trap suspended in air doesn't mean I was getting all girly about it."

"Dean, you fainted."

"I was merely resting my eyes."

"On the ground? In a heap?"

"It's good for my back. Lumbar something or other."

Sam nodded, his lips pursed tightly. "Right, Dean. Okay, whatever you say."

"Sammy, it's a _gay_ cruise."

"It's not a gay cruise, Dean. It's a cruise for newlyweds."

"Right. And since we came together everyone's going to assume we're well, you know."

"Gay?" Sam offered. "We're not gay, Dean. So, who cares?"

"_Me._ I care." Dean fidgeted once more, his countenance contorting into sheer discomfort as he glanced around anxiously. "Dude, you're my brother. That's weird."

"It's not like they're going to ask us to prove anything. It'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? And what if they do? How the _hell _are we supposed to pull that off?"

"What are you expecting, Dean? A hoard of women with their fingers pointed at us accusingly? Excuse me, _yes you there_," Sam mocked in a stern fashion as he directed his index finger towards the liliac hued horizon. "We've had complaints that you're not acting gay enough with one another. Could you please remove your clothing and start humping like a pack of dogs in heat?"

Dean grinned malevolently. "_Nice_," he crowed. "Look at my baby brother getting all acquainted with the dirty talk."

"I'm just saying, Dean. I doubt it's going to be an issue."

"Doubting it isn't the same as knowing it. Look, as much as I'd love to be your little love monkey for the next two weeks isn't there another boat we could take? You know, one where we aren't expected to be denting the headboard every night?"

"Sorry. It's a family owned cruise company. They bought out the island years ago and hid the coordinates. If you want to get there, you've got to go with them."

"Damn it. Maybe we could just skip this one. I heard there's a great strip club about a quarter of a mile down the road."

"Dean, the women in the brochure for that place were at least a hundred years old. It's like some kind of senior citizen fetish dance show."

"Still," Dean countered. "I'd take an eyeful of a couple of sagging old broads to romantic sunsets on the shit deck with my baby brother."

"Trust me. There's not going to be anything romantic about it."

"I don't know. I've been told my lips are irresistible in dim light. Combine that with the mass overproduction of margaritas I'm sure they're serving on that monstrosity," he jerked his thumb towards the large boat docked behind them. "I'd say it's going to be pretty hard for anyone to keep their hands off of me. Yourself included."

"I'll try to remember to resist."

Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying." A large billow of steam flurried across the darkening sky as a horn pierced the air. Dean cringed, hands pressing against his ears protectively as he glanced about as his heart pounded mercilessly against his chest. Instinctively, Sam wanted to laugh at his brother's irrational behavior but the fact of the matter was that ever since his brush with ghost sickness, Dean hadn't quite been himself. In fact, Sam had noticed more and more a skittish sort of demeanor overpowering Dean's normally collected character. The crinkle upon his lips that had been parting into a grin paused, softening as he reached out a hand towards the improperly zipped duffel bag upon his brother's shoulder.

"C'mere. Hey, give me that." He fished about the confines of his jeans' front pockets, retrieving two small folded pieces of colored paper. "I'll check our luggage. You just go get in line before the ship sails off without us, all right?"

Dean nodded slowly, still appearing to be in shock from the eruption of thunderous noise. Sam could practically see his brother's fear palpating against the flesh of his neck, the veins throbbing beneath the skin. "All right," he muttered before sauntering off into the distance causing Sam to shout after him.

"Be careful love monkey."


	2. Chapter 2: like prison

**dos**. _like_ _prison_

- - -

"Oh you have _got_ to be shitting me." An armload's worth of baggage plunked against the paneled wood floor. A rare expression of horror had curled upon Dean's lips, settling itself along the contour of his remaining features. "Where's the second bed?"

"There isn't one, Dean. This is basically a honeymoon cruise. Everyone here just got married. Why would they want separate beds?" Sam argued politely as he peered around the cramped cabin's surroundings. Aside from the bed there was a dresser in the far corner, a reasonably sized television and video player tacked onto the wall, and a second door leading into the bathroom.

Dean snorted. "The real question is why _wouldn't_ they? They just signed their freedom away for the rest of their life. I think a little space is in order, don't you?"

"Clearly you've never been in love."

"Yeah, well not to sound like an ass but I kind of consider that a damn good thing," he said as he stretched his arms behind his head, flopping atop the bed's cushioned mattress. "Hey, this thing ain't half bad." A sly grin forming, he thumped his legs against the springs and cloth, the bed groaning beneath the shifting weight. "Think people think we're doing it already?"

"I hate you so much."

"Love you too, Sammy." Dean propped himself up against his elbows, eyes narrowing into two half moon slits as he glanced about. "So what's the plan?"

Sam frowned as he took a seat of his own along the edge of the bed, pushing Dean's foot towards the side. "Well, assuming we're talking about a standard haunting I'd say we start questioning some of the locals and witnesses. Then if everything checks out right, I've got two shovels packed and plenty of matches and salt. We get back on the ship and head back home. The papers haven't been making much of a deal out of it so I kind of doubt it's going to be that much of a hassle."

"I meant what's the plan until we get there?" Dean slid his shoe from his foot, listening as it clamored along the floor. Nose wrinkling at the slight stench that began to emit from his sole's sweaty pores, he recoiled. "Dude, would you take a look at that blister? It's like a freaking boulder."

Sam blanched, shoving his brother's toes away. "What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?" Dean shrugged, drawing his foot back in towards him as he began to sit upright. Shaking his head, Sam grimaced. "The plan is that we're stuck here for two weeks. I'm sure you can find something to do."

"I already have."

"Grossing me out doesn't count."

"You're no fun, Sammy."

"Regardless," Sam countered briskly. "Sign up for some of the scheduled activities or something."

"You just want me out of your face."

"Dean, that's probably for the best."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Dude, you're stuck with me in a car all the time and we manage decently enough. How the hell is this any different?"

"Look don't take it personally, Dean." Sam chose his words wisely, speaking cautiously as he studied his brother's countenance. "It's just that when you're in a car you can get out and move around if you need a break. I know you. You have no control over when this ship stops and goes and that complete lack of authority tends to bring out the worst in you. Why do you think I let you call the shots so often?"

"Because I'm awesome?"

"No, because you go berserk if someone is telling you what to do. Well welcome to nautical life, Dean. They're going to tell us when to eat, when to play, and when to go to bed."

"So, this is pretty much like prison," Dean reasoned, neck turning as he stared off through the small round porthole along the far side of the wall. The scenery was hard to distinguish as the night sky was beginning to envelop the horizon.

"For you, yes. Some people love this."

"People love being told what to do?" Sam shrugged.

"It takes away the responsibility of having to make their own choices, I guess."

"It can't be all bad though. I saw some pretty hot looking chicks walking around by the pool when we were bringing our stuff in," Dean offered.

"How many times do I have to tell you? This is a cruise for newlyweds," Sam groaned aloud. "Dean, you have to promise me that you won't go hitting on these women. They're married, for Christ's sake."

"Don't let Castiel hear you talking like that. All that dude's gotta' do is flutter his little angel wings and you're a dead man."

"I highly doubt Castiel is going to smite me for asking you to not hit on married women. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon where he comes from."

"Cleveland?"

"_Dean_," Sam warned in a grave tone.

"All right, all right." Dean grumbled beneath his breath, his shoulders sagging heavily as he shook his head towards his brother. The cabin seemed to rise suddenly and fall as the ship cut through the ocean's waves at a steady pace. "I'll do my best."

"You're supposed to be married to me anyway. How would that look if you go off picking up random women on our honeymoon?"

"Like I'm open to exploring my sexual boundaries? Sammy, are you kidding me with this crap?"

"Dean, I'm serious. If you're going to pretend to be my husband you might as well at least pretend like you respect our fake marriage and what it stands for." Dean's hands flew to his head, his fingertips massaging his temples as he chewed against his lower lip slowly. His skin paled as the cabin seemed to dip with the motion of the brine beneath them.

"This is insanity. _Seriously_." He paused as he eyed his brother, observing him suspiciously. "Is this like some crazy ass reaction to the salt water? I told you not to drink that stuff."

"You also told me that Play-Doh was a suitable substitution for spaghetti."

"That was one time and we were out of food. Dad was on a hunt. What did you expect me to do? Let you think I was starving you? You would've hated me." Dean snapped, gaze whirling back towards his brother as his eyes darkened. The ship rocked upon its watery surface once more, the hull letting out a loud creak as it did so.

"Look, I'm just saying I don't want our cover to be blown. I want to get this job done and get back on the road." He paused. "Dean, are you okay?" His brother's cheeks were strangely ashen, a pallor that was beginning stretch down along the nape of his neck.

Dean hesitated, swallowing thickly as he nodded. "M'fine," he mumbled. His fingertips gripped the corner of the pillow, entwining the fabric between his palms as he inhaled steadily. The ship seemed to veer, his stomach unfortunately following suit. He clenched his jaw, forcing a strained smile. He hated when his brother worried about him. Sam seemed appeased by the sudden show of teeth and his shoulders relaxed.

"You're sure?"

"Sure."

A bell clattered, buzzing through the ship's auditory system intently. A male's voice penetrated the horizon as the faceless entity announced, "Dinner will be served on the main deck in precisely ten minutes." There was a click and suddenly he was gone.

"If we're late do we not get fed or something?" Dean grunted. Sam had been right. Already the rules were beginning to wear at him and they hadn't been aboard for more than a few hours.

"Guess we better not find out." Dean shrugged, sighing as he shut his eyes for a brief second. His lips tightened as he slid his foot back amongst the confines of his tattered sneaker.

"Guess not."


	3. Chapter 3: love monkey

**tres**.

- - -

"And how did you two meet?" Both boys squirmed aimlessly upon their seats. Sam's face was burning a dazzling brilliance of pinks and scarlet hues. Dean stared down at his plate in awkward silence, dragging his fork's prongs against his mildly untouched food.

"Friends," Sam mumbled in a barely audible grunt as he avoided eye contact with the couple seated across the table. The man smiled politely, patting the woman next to him upon the back as he shoveled another mouthful of soup between his teeth.

"That's _wonderful_," he commended with a genuine flick of the hand. "My Sophie and I met on a dig back about three years ago. She'd just found a historical tribal bowl and her little head popped out all covered in dirt and clay and I just knew she was the one for me. Was it that way for you two?"

"At first it was all about the sex," Dean offered dryly. "Then when he knocked me up we had to get married. Isn't that right love monkey?" The couple stared blankly; seemingly unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to laugh at his remark.

"Dean, shut up." Sam shot the couple an apologetic glance. "Please excuse me broth-," he quickly caught himself. "_Husband_." Dean shuddered, pushing his plate away with force. "He's not used to sailing. It turns him into a complete asshole."

Dean flashed a strained grin, the color waning from his features. "Thanks, Sammy." Sam aped his brother's taut smirk, resting his fingertips atop Dean's as he subtly stomped his sibling's foot with his own beneath the table.

"No problem – _love monkey_."

. . . . .

The waves pummeled the ship's exterior causing the scent of salt and fish to waft throughout each and every corridor. The sun had long since crashed out of sight, the only source of natural light now being that of the sparkling array of stars pasted against the black horizon. The moon was unable to be seen from its perch behind a puff of small clouds.

Resting against his brother's shoulder atop the large yet stiff mattress, Dean shivered. The air around them was practically frozen and the cabin felt like a close substitute for an icebox. He yanked at the sheets, pulling them tightly beneath his chin as Sam rolled sideways with a snore.

The floor seemed to be dropping out beneath him with each rise and fall the ship made. Though his muscles craved sleep, his insides seemed to refuse to rest. Each centimeter of his intestines felt increasingly cold and tight as the seconds passed. His palms were practically slimy with perspiration as goose bumps broke out along the back of his neck and down his sticky forearms.

"_Sammy_?" he grunted into the pitch black air. His brother stirred, flinching ever so slightly. Yet his lids remained shut.

"_Yeah_?" Dean sighed, grimacing as the boat crashed against another steep wave without the slightest of grace.

"Are we there yet?"


	4. Chapter 4: angel vs fly

**quatro.**

- - -

"Son of a bitch, Dean." Dean's pale irises rolled, shoulders slumped as he sat against the unbalanced deck chair with a cross between a pout and a glower upon his lips. Perspiration had long since dampened his shirts – having been unwilling to remove his beloved jacked and jeans. The sun's heat radiated like burning coal down upon both boys' skin and freckles had begun to appear along the bridges of each one's nose. "Look, I get it. You're not happy. But you don't have to whine at me like some bratty little kid because you didn't get your way."

"Seriously though, Sammy? Shuffleboard?" Dean's voice resonated with intense disbelief as his steely eyes locked gazes with that of his brother's. "Why did you just sign up to throw me in where they keep the cargo and shit? It would've been a hell of a lot less punishment."

"If you hadn't slept in so late and gotten up when I told you to, then everything else on the activity list wouldn't have been filled up," the taller Winchester explained casually.

"Why do we have to an _activity_ anyway?" Dean spat the word out as though it were bitter against his tongue. Fingertips mopped at the sweat upon his brow as he pushed back along the wobbling plastic chair.

"To blend in."

"Yeah," Dean snorted sarcastically. "Because we're doing such a good job of that already."

"Which is exactly why we need to be on the third deck in twenty minutes with big, annoying and love struck grins on our faces. Then we're going to play shuffleboard. Got it?"

"Mm," Dean avoided all acknowledgement of his sibling's statement, pupils drifting off towards the horizon as he scratched at the back of his neck.

"And Dean?"

"Mm?"

"We're gonna' have fun."

- - -

A soft breeze lilted through the cracked window of the cabin. Arms crossed atop his chest, Dean lay along the mattress of the bed – the sheets folded neatly beneath him, courtesy of Sam. Burned patches of his epidermis were already beginning to dry and peel.

"Shouldn't you be outside with your brother?" Letting out an uncharacteristic and piercing shout, Dean leapt suddenly from the safety of the bed – pulse accelerating and pulsating at an alarming rate. Face flushing as blood rushed throughout his body amongst a sea of endorphins and fear, he reached towards his side – snatching the closest object he could fit his fingertips around.

Object in hand, he extended his arm – wailing on the cabin's intruder, eyes oddly pressed shut as he did so. He could feel his assailant fumbling with the weapon and at once, Dean heard it clatter against the floor as a man's hand wrapped itself around his flinching wrist. "Did you just strike me with a fly swatter?" the attacker questioned in a slow and incredulous tone.

"Cass?" Embarrassment flooded his every pore as Dean's lashes fluttered open, a wince along the corners of his lips. "I thought you were – I dunno'. Definitely someone else."

Castiel's face remained stoic. "Did you just strike me with a fly swatter?" he repeated carefully, his grip tightening upon the eldest Winchester's arm.

"Yeah," Dean admitted reluctantly. "So? What's the matter?" he inquired dubiously. "It's not like it hurt or anything."

"I am not a fly," Castiel said in an eerily steady tone. Dean shifted uncomfortably, yanking at his wrist in an attempt to free it from the angel's curled fingertips.

"I dunno' Cass. You've got to admit there are some striking similarities," Dean offered in a dead pan manner.

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel reprimanded as if in reminder.

"Mm, big flapping wings – dropping in on me when I really don't want you around. Make a lot of buzzing sounds. No," Dean surmised with taut lips. "I'm pretty sure the two of you are interchangeable."

Castiel glared, relinquishing his grasp. "Find your brother, Dean." And with a final parting motion, he reached forward – index finger unfurled as he pressed it against the hunter's forehead – murmuring a hasty slew of unfamiliar words beneath his breath.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean inched backwards, scowling furiously as he slashed at the air with his hands. "Jesus Christ, you _are_ just like a fly. Freaking pest," he grunted. "Great," he clapped his hands against one another. "And now you're gone," he hollered into the empty cabin. "Freaking perv," he shouted into the air with a frown. "Angels man." He let out a tiny shudder before returning to his flopped position atop the bed's soft mattress. The coils squeaked at the sudden shift in weight. "Weird little creatures."


	5. Chapter 5: freaking mermaid

**cinco.**

- - -

"_Excuse me_." A knock upon the cabin's door rang out furiously. "Mrs. Winchester?" the voice called out. Sam groaned, turning beneath the sheets as he yanked them off his bare chest – pushing them onto the ground. Easing himself towards the room's entrance he wrapped his fingertips around the doorknob, tugging at it abruptly.

"_Mr._ Winchester," he corrected with a warbled croak to his voice, eyes bleary with disturbed slumber as he used his free hand to aimlessly rub at his lashes.

"_I see_," the visitor murmured with obvious mortification. Tiny, no more than eighteen, she stood dwarfed by the eldest Winchester whose arm she had gripped with both palms tightly. "Is this your – _husband_?" she inquired cautiously, clearly still hesitant from her previous blunder.

"_Yeah_," the hunter lied begrudgingly, shooting his brother a scowl as he leaned his hip against the wooden frame of the door. "That's my _love monkey_," he said almost cynically, enjoying the cringe that crept along the muscles of Dean's face. "What'd he do now?"

"Oh _nothing_," the girl dismissed brightly, strengthening her grip as Dean shifted sideways as though attempting to escape. "Well, nothing that he's in trouble for that is. He just had a little too much to drink at the bar and needed some help finding his way back," she noted in an overly dulcet tone.

Eyes shifting back for forth, Sam couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Dean appeared to be – and rather alert to be as drunk as the cruise employee seemed to claim he was. "All right, well thanks for bringing him back to me." Sam nodded curtly, ushering his brother into the cabin. "Don't know what I'd do without him," he added for good measure – just in case anyone was listening in.

"Night' Liesl," Dean muttered with a sunken gaze. "Thanks again for the help." A vein along the side of his neck throbbed visibly, his epidermis moist with perspiration.

"Dude, what was that about?" Shutting the door, Sam turned to face his brother with a confused look upon his features. Head tilted quizzically, he rolled his shoulders as his arms crossed against his chest. "That chick was like half the size of you and you were shaking like a hairless cat."

"Not true," Dean argued pointlessly, tongue running along the flesh of his bottom lip nervously – beginning to scout the cabin with both eyes.

"What's the deal?"

"_Nothing_," Dean stated firmly.

"_Tell me_."

"All right, all right." Sam stifled a triumphant grin. _That_ certainly hadn't taken long.

"That chick – that _thing_," Dean corrected. "Is no human."

Sam's brow arched as he instinctively reached for the sheathed knife tucked into the waistband of his boxer shorts. "_Shapeshifter_?" he questioned, glancing about just as nervously as his brother now.

Dean swallowed heavily, head shaking with fret. "No, dude. _Worse_. Much, _much_ worse."

"_Demon_?"

"Worse," Dean repeated, gulping shakily at the air around him.

"Dean just _tell_ me already," Sam said with a trace of impatience in his voice.

"_Fine_," Dean snarled. "But I gotta' warn you Sammy. You ain't gonna' like it. Not one bit."

"_Well_?"

"_Mermaid_, Sammy." Dean's pupils were flecked with ultimate fear. "Chick's a freaking mermaid."


	6. Chapter 6: fish chick

**six**. _something fishy_

- - -

"Let me get this straight," Sam grimaced as he watched his brother obsessively flip through the pages of their father's cluttered journal. "You're scared of _mermaids_?" Wrinkling his nose, he straightened his back. "_Really_, Dean?"

"There's gotta' be something in here about the little bastards," Dean muttered, ignoring his brother as the rough pads of his fingertips slid across each sheet of scribbled parchment. "I could see the evil in her eyes, Sammy. Like I was a sundae with freaking hot fudge."

"Not to stomp all over your killer mermaid theory, Dean but none of the lore I've read about mermaids place them as _cannibals_," Sam noted as his eyes narrowed slightly. The ship rocked steadily beneath their feet. "From what I've heard, the only time they kill is by accident. Falling in love with a human and forgetting they can't breathe under water isn't really something to keep you up at night."

"Great," Dean growled as he slammed the journal shut with a defiant roll of the shoulders. "Now the little twerp is in love with me?"

"I never _said_ that," Sam countered with a hint of exasperation. "What's the deal, Dean? Dad read you _The Little Mermaid_ when we were kids and it just rubbed you the wrong way?"

"I have my reasons," Dean responded quietly, averting his gaze towards the underside of his fingernails.

"And another thing," Sam continued with a boyish look of dubiousness upon his countenance. "What even makes you so sure she was a mermaid?"

"I saw her tail," Dean replied curtly. "_What_, you don't believe me?"

"You were drinking."

"She was swimming in the pool, Sammy."

"You were drinking," the youngest Winchester pointed out once again. Dean frowned.

"_One_ beer, Sammy. Not enough to cause me to see the horror I saw tonight, _okay_?" A coral flush had crept along the length of his neck in splattered patches as anger rattled throughout his lungs. "I was heading back here and I saw her - just jumping around in the water all by herself with that creepy ass tail behind her."

"_So_ - why would a mermaid just start swimming in public? Wouldn't everybody else have seen her too? You would think that would start some kind of pandemonium. I mean, think about it Dean. It just doesn't make sense." Sam tried to rationalize the situation, though already realizing it was probably a lost cause.

"It doesn't _have_ to make sense. It's what happened," Dean snapped with a grimace. "Besides, everyone was out at that couples' dance hoe-down shit they've got up on the third deck. It was basically a dead zone. She would've had free range for hours before anyone would've noticed."

"There was a dance?" Sam's brow arched. Dean recoiled.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me, Sammy." Blanching, he smacked his little brother across the chest with the underside of his knuckles. "I'll take a mutant fish-human over _do-si-do'ing_ on the dance floor with you any day of the week."

"It just might've been beneficial to our cover," Sam argued with a defeated mutter, pushing his bangs from his forehead.

"Oh my god," Dean exhaled. "You're a freak."

"_Shut up_, Dean."

"You actually like this whole undercover homo-incest ordeal, don't you?" Dean shook his head, gaping at his brother with disapproval.

"That's not it," Sam growled, digging his toes against the insoles of his sneakers with frustration. "_Jesus Christ_, listen to yourself."

"Careful, Sammy. Cass might just beam down from his mother ship if he hears you talking like that." Dean grinned. "Look I know I'm delectable and all but for Christ's sake we're _brothers_."

A large vein along the side of the younger hunter's temple throbbed with a mixture of anger and relentless irritation. "_You're an ass_," Sam hissed with slatted eyes.

"Well then just tell me - what is it, Sammy? Because anything's better than you warming up to the idea of this single bed shit."

Lifting his shoulders, a large snap of bones rolled with his movements as Sam's lips pursed. "I dunno', Dean. I _guess_," he started hesitantly, glancing out the cabin's tiny window with an almost wistful look upon his features. "I guess I just like the fact that for once we're not alone."

"What're you talking about? We're never alone. We've got each other," Dean countered almost defensively as he bristled slightly.

"Yeah, but it's not the same." Sam paused, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh. "It's just nice to have people around. People that aren't other hunters or secretly demons or whatever other crap they might be. Just - _people_. We don't get that a lot. Really,_ ever_."

"People are _boring_, Sammy."

Sam shrugged. "I guess I'd still like to take my chances. I dunno'. Call it stupid, whatever, Dean. It's just nice to feel _normal _for once in awhile."

"Normal?" Dean spluttered, eyes widening. "Sam, what in the hell is normal about pretending you're married to your _brother_? No matter what happens in life, no matter what we're doing and where we're going - _nothing_ for us will ever be _normal_. The sooner you get that in your head the better."

"No, I _know_ that."

"Then act like you do, Sammy. Because _honestly_, sometimes I wonder."

"Just forget it." Deflated, the younger Winchester's posture slumped. "Let's just see what we can find out about your nightmare in the kiddie-pool, all right?"

"Fish-chick?" Dean seemed to quiver where he stood.

"You called her Liesl."

"Freak said it was her name."

"Well you go check the records for anyone listed under that name and I'll see what I can drag anything out of the other passengers."

"Yeah," Dean flashed an impish grin at his baby brother, eyebrows suddenly dancing merrily. "You do that, Sammy." Pausing for effect he yanked at his earlobe. "After all, who knows - _maybe they've seen something_ fishy."


	7. Chapter 7: sunnovabitch cass

**seven**.

- - -

"_What're you doing_?"

Dean's frame jolted at the sudden sound. "_Sunnovabitch_," he cursed, lashing his hands towards the noise as air trembled within his lungs. "_Cass_," he reprimanded. "You've got to _stop_ doing that shit."

"_Leave her alone_." Castiel's features were sullen, unwavering.

"_Who_?"

"Liesl."

"_Fish-chick_?" Dean questioned incredulously.

"Her presence on this ship is not of importance to you _or_ your brother." Castiel narrowed his gaze, the apples of his cheekbones appearing to be swollen with tension. "Leave her alone."

"Cass, she tried to eat me."

"Clearly, you were mistaken by her intentions."

"_Cass_," Dean protested.

"You _will_ do as I say or there _will_ be consequences," the angel warned as a shadow crept along the length of his shoulders. The ship swayed suddenly. "Are we clear?" he inquired in a slow monotone, eyeing the hunter cautiously.

Careful not to trip against his own feet as the ground continued to jumble beneath him, Dean nodded begrudgingly. "_Yeah_," he said as he swallowed down the sharp stabbing of nausea as the cabin shook with intimate fierceness. "We're clear, Cass."


	8. Chapter 8: all i got was this tee shirt

**eight**.

- - -

"Don't pull so hard, Sammy." Dean's features twisted as his brother continued forward in full stride, his heavy footsteps thumping upon the ship's wooden deck. "_You're hurting my hand_," the eldest hunter whimpered uncharacteristically, swiping at his brother's taut grip around his wrist.

"Consider it payback," Sam growled as he kept his gaze locked upon the crowd of people ahead – all chattering with apparent buzzing excitement.

"For _what_?" Dean yelped as Sam's fingernails slid into his epidermis, a glare forming along the edges of his pale lips.

"These _shirts_ for starters," Sam responded with utmost disdain, gesturing towards his chest with an aggravated scowl.

"These things?" Utilizing his free hand, Dean pinched at the cotton fabric lying upon his chest with a boyish grin. "I thought you of all people would like em', Sammich. Make us look the part and all," he rationalized with subdued pleasure.

"Acting like your husband and wearing piece of crap matching t-shirts that say, '_my hubby – my heart_' are two completely different things," Sam spat.

"I thought the cartoon decal on the back was a classy touch," Dean said with an absent shrug. "You know I can't help it, Sammy. _I'm a slave to fashion_."

"Yeah well you're also an idiot," Sam quipped bitterly, freeing his brother's wrist with a forceful toss.

"What're you talking about?"

"Mermaids, Dean? I mean, _really_? _Really_?" Sam's tone climbed with each questioned as both his brows arched quickly.

Dean heaved a sigh of frustration. "This again? Damnit, Sam. Why can't you just take my word for it? I _know_ what I _saw_ all right? _Enough is enough_," he groused irritably.

"Oh, I know what you _think_ you saw," Sam countered with a finger in the air, straightening it as he pointed towards a large wooden sign beyond the scattered mass of the crowd. "_Beauty of the Sea – See the Show That Has Everyone Talking_," he read aloud. "_Starring Liesl the Mermaid, A Once in A Lifetime Opportunity_."

Dean stood still, the tip of his tongue scouring the flesh of his bottom lip as he peered through the throng of people. Liesl sat at the edge of the large lagoon shaped pool that had clearly been set up for the show, her tail swinging in the water below.

"_Sunnovabitch_."

"When you saw her the other night – she was rehearsing. It's all fake, Dean. Props, lights and a costume."

" – _when she got out of the water_," Dean argued dazedly. "It doesn't make sense."

"There's no such thing as mermaids, all right Dean?"

" – _her tail just disappeared, no costume_."

"_Dean_."

"Why would Cass tell me to stay away from her then?" Dean shook his head, frowning as he kept his eyes upon the now swimming girl – ignoring the crowd's constant cheers and whistles of both shock and admiration. "I'm telling you Sammy, something doesn't add up."

"_Well_," Sam clamped his hand against his brother's shoulder with a sigh. "Let's face it Dean. _You never were that good at math_."


	9. Chapter 9: so called mysterious ways

**nine.**

- - -

"_Cass_?" Dean called out into the empty star stricken air. The dull thumping of footsteps pounded from the corridors beside him. "I know you're listening somewhere out there because you're _kind of_ a freak like that," he shouted in a level tone as he scratched at his throat absently. "Can you just show up already?"

"_What_?" The angel seemed impatient, disgruntled even as he swept behind the hunter from out of the invisible oblivion in which he often existed.

"Dude, you've got to level with me here." Dean's gaze shifted about the ship's rather lonely deck. "What's the deal with Liesl and _why_ the fuck are you having such a boner about us staying away from her?"

Castiel glared. "I told you to leave her _alone_," he snapped testily, fidgeting with the knot of his tie.

"Yeah I got that from the first thousand times you said it. But that's not the point," Dean countered, streaking his thumb along his bottom lip. "The point is _why_ you're saying it."

"If it concerned you then you _would_ know," Castiel stated dourly.

"_Fine_. _Whatever_, Cass. You and your _mysterious ways_," Dean said in an almost mocking manner, fluttering his fingertips in front of the angel's face. "But just tell me one thing then," he supplicated with an intensely curious glimmer flickering throughout his pupils. "Is she a fish-chick?"

"I don't understand."

"A mermaid, Cass." Dean sighed irately. "Is she a _mermaid_?"

"Of course," Castiel replied with indomitable silence. "Why else do you think you're here?"

Dean hesitated. " – dude, you _just_ said we had nothing to do with her."

"For now."

"_You told me to leave her alone_." The hunter's pitch climbed with each protest as a feverish flush wrestled along the surface of his cheeks.

"For now."

Dean glowered. "_Seriously, Cass? Seriously_," he said once more with a pained expression painted upon his countenance. " – sometimes I really, really hate you."


	10. Chapter 10: who wet the bed

**ten.**

- - -

Dean's features creased, fraught with tension as he slept against his brother's clavicle. Cheeks pressed into his sibling's warm skin, his fingertips twitched with every painful picture that raced throughout his brain. Frail cries bobbed about his lungs as his feet kicked at the lack of sheets bundled at the edge of the bed.

_"Cass told me what you are," he spurted at the familiar female darting inside his subconscious. "A filthy fish." _

_"You're not supposed to talk to me," Liesl warned with a stern narrowing of her pupils, lashes fluttering with a dizzying flurry. "You're going to hurt him." _

_"Hurt who?" _

_"Who do you think?" _

_"Cass?" _

_"You need to wake up now," the blurred vision of the young girl urged, eyes pleading as her fingertips pointed towards the horizon – a distant black opening into an otherwise star filled sky. "Before it's too late." _

_"Wait – what does talking to you have to do with Cass?" Liesl shook her head furiously, her tattered mane falling easily against her shoulders. _

_"Just wake up." _

_"No. Not until you answer me." _

_"I can't. No time." _

_Dean frowned. "Then make some damn time. I'm tired of being yanked around. Whatever you have to say, just say it now and get it over with." _

_"I'm sorry," Liesl bit her lower lip with earnest guilt and her mouth curled with sorrow. _

_" – for what?" _

_"This." At once she dove forward, thrusting her palms atop the hunter's chest – pushing him into the wall. _

_"What the - ?" _

Awaking with a startled terror, Dean flung himself from his brother's tight grasp. Perspiration had coated each inch of his epidermis as his pulse jolted like rapid fire from within his veins.

"Sunnofabitch, Dean. You wet the freaking bed," his brother grumbled with a combination of disgust and concern as he lurched to the side, away from the trickling stream of urine.

"Something's wrong, Sammy." Dean's gaze was fixated on the ceiling, his breathing shallow and staggered.

"I'll say. Aw, _Jesus Christ, Dean_. Did you shit yourself too?" Dean ignored his sibling, shivering from the sweat with a fevered quake.

"It's Cass."

"_Cass_ shit the bed?" Sam questioned incredulously.

"_No_," Dean muttered.

"Then _what_?"

"He's going to die."


	11. Chapter 11: the jerry winchester show

**eleven. **_don't you judge by the cover_

- - -

"You're trying to tell me that a _mermaid_ is going to somehow kill an _angel_?" Sam tilted his neck to the side, his tone rising with increase skepticism.

"What about it the _first_ twenty times I told you did you not get?"

"How about the fact that it's pretty much – _you know_, impossible." Dean's stern gaze tightened as a painful screech rang aloud throughout the ship's speaker system.

"_Mic-check_," a voice mumbled over the dulled chatter of the passengers, gathering in tiny crowds amongst themselves. "_Test_."

With a groan, Dean slunk against the ship's rail – the collar of his shirt pressing against his chin as he stared sullenly ahead. "Do we really have to discuss this at a freaking karaoke contest?"

"You love karaoke," Sam objected.

"Yeah when it's a bunch of loaded chicks in little shorts and big tops – _if_ you catch my drift," Dean responded with a sly glance. "None of this ooey-gooey couples crap."

"It's called a duet, Dean."

"Oh yeah? And tell me, Sammy? What part of this evening will _not_ be giving you nightmares?" Dean lashed out with a snide frown. "Because right now it definitely feels like we're living in one."

"Really, Dean? _Really_?" Both the younger hunter's brows arched dubiously as he scratched idly at his forearm. "You've been to hell and back and _karaoke_ is what gets you?" At once he seemed to realize his mistake of rehashing his brother's painful past as Dean's face grew shadowy. "_Dean_," he said softly.

"Can we just get back to figuring out how to kill the fish?" Dean interjected icily, clearly avoiding any recognition of the previous statement.

"Dean, I'm _sorry_. You know I didn't mean it," Sam ignored his brother's attempts to change the subject. Dean stared ahead quietly. "Fine, whatever. Look, Dean. Whether you like the facts or not there is no way that Liesl is able to kill Castiel. I mean, where the hell would you even get such an _insane_ idea from?"

"I just know it."

"Because you don't trust _mermaids_?"

"Exactly."

"Dean, they're like in _every _little girl's book of fairytales – and guess what. Little girls love them. So, please, tell me how it is that you have come to find them just so damn awful that you're ready to assume one is about to assassinate an _angel_?"

"Are you calling me a little girl?" Dean's nostrils flared ever so slightly as his voice increased in volume.

"Oh look honey," he heard one couple exclaim from beyond one of the miniature clusters of passengers. "That cute little gay couple is fighting."

"That's too bad," the wife replied with a sigh in her throat. "They were _totally_ this cruise's Will and Jack."

Dean's arms flailed with a visible shiver as he cringed over the unnecessarily over-broadcasted comments. "Answer the question, Sammy," he demanded after a minute's hesitation.

"No, Dean. Of course I'm not," Sam said in an attempt to hush his brother's growing rage. Motioning with his hands, he shook his head. "I'm just saying that this mistrust you have of mermaids just doesn't make sense. Liesl hasn't done anything to you to make you feel this way – although you _clearly_ felt this way before meeting her."

"Typical," Dean snorted.

"Typical?"

"Yeah, typical. You, Sammy. It's not that I don't trust enough – it's that you're _too _damn trusting. Hell, you trust a fucking _demon_. It's not right and you know it so don't you dare give me any shit for not wanting to go frolic in the ocean with our fishy new friend."

"Even if your paranoid little conspiracy here was right, Dean. Yeah, okay let's say all mermaids are blood sucking bitches from beyond. That still doesn't give any weight to your theory that she's going to off Cass. He's an _angel_ for Christ's sake. It's not like she can just run him over with a car."

"Right, a car," Dean scoffed. "Because driving with a tail is so easy." Sam groaned, yanking at the sides of his head as his fingertips tore at his hair.

"Are you listening to yourself right now? Honestly, Dean. What the _hell_ happened when you were down there because the person in front of me right now is _not_ acting like my big broth -," quickly catching himself as their argument had been drawing a crowd, Sam paused. " – big teddy bear of love," he corrected with a wince.

"_Shut up_," Dean shouted, his foot stamping atop the ground. "_Shut up, shut up, shut up_!"

"Stop it," a female voice cried out, Liesl suddenly appearing as she pushed through the throng of spectators. "Stop fighting you idiots."

"She must be their _hag_," one of the awed passengers whispered in a not so subtle tone.

"Oh yeah," another concluded. "I've heard of those."

"Listen you evil bitch," Dean started with fingers pointed. "Take one step closer and I will gut you like the fish you are."

"You need to stop," Liesl warned, eyes wide and afraid as she peered about the boat – her chest falling with each worried breath. "Please."

"Why should we?" Dean half snarled as he spoke.

" – she's listening," Liesl whispered, continuing to scope her surroundings. "Don't you know she hears everything?"

"_Who_?" Sam questioned curiously. "Who hears everything?"

" – _Lillith_."

"All right, let's say I believe you. Which, I don't," Dean mentioned. "Where the hell does Cass fall into all of this?"

"Must be a love triangle," another one of the passenger's narrated. The crowd ooh'ed with speculation.

"Jesus Christ, it's like our own episode of the _Jerry Springer_ show," Dean muttered with a wary frown.

"Leave Cass alone."

"Funny," Dean snapped. "He said the same to us about you."

"Exactly, so leave us _both_ alone."

"Ain't gonna' happen sugar. You're not leaving my sight until I know for sure that Cass is safe from your undead, underwater loving hands."

"Safe?" Liesl quipped in amazement. "From me."

"From you."

"Right," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Because I obviously _forced_ him to be here. Let me make this perfectly clear to you two. _Both_ of you," she threatened, waggling her finger between each brother. "I tried to get Castiel to go. He won't and if he won't, it's his own death. _Nothing_ I can do about it. I don't want him in danger but that's what he chose. I would _never_," she stressed the final word with an almost sorrowful stare. " – _hurt_ Cass."

"Why won't he leave?" Sam spoke softly, peering over his brother's shoulder.

"I don't know," Liesl said with a frustrated shrug. "You'd have to ask _him_."


	12. Chapter 12: freedom fries for all

**twelve. **

- - -

The ship's tiny café was empty, though the rhythmic pounding of the ocean waves against the hull of the ship filled it with noise. Alone at a table, Dean sat with hands folded atop one another. A carton filled with fries lingered along the surface, and a beer sat at each setting.

"I know you're here, Cass." Dean spoke quietly, reaching for a slight handful of the salted treats. "Your little fish friend said you won't leave." Teeth gnashing at the fries, he took a full swig of the alcohol before him. "I just wanna' talk."

"About what." Almost hesitantly, the angel stepped forth – out of the blackened shadows.

"Have a seat," Dean instructed curtly as he kicked the empty chair out from under the table. It screeched against the tile with an uncanny defiance. Castiel eyed the chair with reluctance.

"_Dean_," he began warily.

"I _just_ wanna' talk," Dean stressed as his sneaker tapped against the rungs of the chair. Nodding, the angel accepted the seat, pushing the length of his trench coat underneath of his frame. "Have a fry, Cass." Motioning towards the oil stained carton, he kept his features stoic.

"What's this about?"

"_Have a fry, Cass_." Contemplating the repercussions of his actions and the motive behind the hunter's insistence, the angel sat in stillness. Dean's pupils rolled along the whites of his eyes. "For Christ's sake, Cass. This isn't an interrogation and it's a damn _fry_. It won't kill you." Used to the frequent outbursts of anger, Castiel ignored the harsh tone – though finally taking a fistful of the greasy sticks and placing them upon his tongue. "Good," Dean nodded with satisfaction. "Now tell me what the hell is going on, Cass."

"I don't follow."

"Of course you do. You're an angel, man. Aren't you supposed to be all knowing and all that bullshit?"

Castiel frowned, chewing slowly. "Only God is all knowing, Dean."

"Whatever," Dean grunted. "Look, that's not the point. The point is Liesl says you don't need to be here. In fact, she says you _shouldn't_ be here."

Castiel's cheeks flared with a rosy hue as his fingertips jerked. "I _told_ you to leave her _alone_," he choked.

"Of course you did. Because if we hadn't left her alone we wouldn't know that you're an _idiot_," Dean said with tightened brows, hands smacking against the surface of the table. "Seriously, Cass. What's the deal?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," the angel retaliated in an uncharacteristically meek manner.

"Oh, but I think I do. See, here's what _I _think is going on," Dean bantered with a wry grin. "Your little seafood friend is one of the seals – right? And that bothers you so you've been going out of your way to stick around and protect her despite that fact that there's probably nothing you can do about it. Lilith shows up, cooks herself up some nice mermaid fillet and you get sent back to your maker."

Castiel fiddled with the rim of his beer bottle absently. " – Liesl is a seal, _yes_," he admitted with partial reluctance.

"So what's the _point_ then, Cass? No offense, but she doesn't seem to think there's anything you can do to save her. Not to _mention_, she doesn't really seem all that keen on the idea of you getting hurt in the process," Dean pointed out as the squirming angel snatched another mouthful of fries.

"Lilith can't kill an angel," Castiel said softly.

"Then what do you suppose can? Liesl feels pretty strongly that you're in danger if you stick around."

"Its _fine_," Castiel argued sullenly. "And not to be of concern to you."

"_Not to be of concern_," Dean stifled a brusque laugh. "Are you listening to yourself right now, Cass?"

"I have ears, yes."

"No, forget that. I mean are you really listening to yourself?" Dean shook his head with a dour grin. "Do you really think you need to martyr yourself for some chick – _hell_ she's not even a _real_ chick. And whether you like it or not, Sammy and I have developed a bit of a soft spot for you and your psycho heavenly ways. We're not about to let you just wait around for certain doom because you think it's the right thing to do."

"I never said it was the _right_ thing to do," Castiel replied.

"Then why do it Cass? _Why_? I thought your whole deal was to save the human race. Liesl doesn't exactly fall into that category," Dean stated gruffly.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Understand what? I get it, Cass. I _do_," Dean said, taking another gulp of alcohol. As though robotically aping the hunter, the angel brought his own bottle to his ashy lips. "You like her, right?" Castiel gazed downwards, appearing ashamed. "That's what all this macho _Prince Charming_ shit is about."

"You know nothing, Dean." Castiel's voice had grown gravelly and tense.

"I know that if there was anything Sammy and I could do about this seal then you would've asked us as _soon_ as we got on this ship. And I know that if there was anything _you_ could do then you would've done it already. But you didn't and you haven't, Cass. Which only leaves the fact that you're wasting your time trying to protect something that was _never meant to be protected_," Dean spat in an almost callous way. Castiel stiffened.

"You're wrong."

"Am I really, though?"

"I've _already_ protected Liesl from Lilith," Castiel informed quietly.

Dean sighed, eyes rolling yet again at the angel's stubborn nature. "Then what's supposed to come and kill _you_?"

Castiel stared ahead in uneasy silence, causing Dean to squirm from where he sat. Parting his lips for a brief moment, the angel uttered a single and sorrowful word. "_Me_."


	13. Chapter 13: graceless

**thirteen. **_it was only a kiss_

- - -

"Dean, what're you doing?" Liesl shrieked as she clawed at her attacker. Dean held her by the wrists, dragging her forward across the length of the ship's outer deck.

"Taking matters into my own hands," Dean muttered as he tightened his grip, fingertips clenching. "I've had it with this little soap opera you and Cass are trying to pull so _here_," he finished with a bit of a grunt, tossing her against the paneling of the pool's cabana. "If I have to listen to one more self deprecating little speech about how each of you is the end of the other I will literally jump overboard and kiss my ass goodbye."

"You'd go back to Hell," Liesl argued.

"Thus proving how fed up with your bullshit I am. Look, Cass ain't gonna' leave because he's sweet on you."

"What?" Liesl stammered - appearing obviously lost amongst the conversation as her irises enlarged naively.

"And you, fish-face, are _never_ gonna' be able to convince him to get off this ship without a little bit more persuasion than you've been pulling. So," Dean clapped his hands against one another. "I've figured out a solution."

"Which is?"

"This." Snapping his fingers, he called out into the foggy air. "Cass, _come here Cass_."

"I don't appreciate being called like an animal," Castiel glowered morosely as he materialized out of nothingness. Gaze setting upon Liesl, he froze. "What're you doing, Dean?"

"Solving the fact that you are a giant _sissy_, my friend."

"_He can't be here_," Liesl faltered. "He'll just get hurt."

"I told you, Dean. I told you," Castiel said with traces of fury.

"No what you so cryptically told me was that you would be the death of yourself. Considering the pathetic-ness of said statement, I've decided to assist you in reclaiming some semblance of your manliness."

"You have no idea what you've gone and done." Castiel's features appeared visibly ill as he strained to disappear, unable to do so. Instead his feet proceeded towards the petite young girl.

Liesl seemed to be doing the same, her face contorted as though fighting her body's response as well. "You couldn't just _listen_," she scolded. "We told you to stay away."

"We told you it was _not_ of your concern," Castiel remarked – now a mere foot from the mermaid. Both wore a similar look upon their countenance – a combination of longing and fatalistic doom.

"You see," Liesl started as her eyes closed themselves. "When a man falls for a mermaid he cannot help himself – and neither can she."

"And when an angel shares love with any creature other than God himself," Castiel spoke slowly, the lids of his eyes shutting now as well. Each leaned towards the other, completely terrified of the next moment to come. Dean's epidermis suddenly felt cold as he watched the angel place his pale lips upon the girl's – a gentle kiss in place.

Liesl held her mouth against the angel's, both breathing heavily as they shivered in the night air.

Dean could see their breath through the patches of clouded fog that swept along the horizon. Turning her head, Liesl shot him a heart breaking glance that left the sensation of a knife cutting mercilessly through his belly. " – _he loses his Grace_."


	14. Chapter 14: santa claus is a ho

**fourteen. **

- - -

"_Cass_," Dean whirred.

Curled in the fetal position upon the cabin's dusty floor, Castiel shivered - wails emanating from the confines of his throat. Static flickers of ebony wings pulsed throughout the room with each twist of the body he was occupying.

"_Cass_," Dean repeated. Placing his hands atop the angel's belly he moved them in slow, sympathetic circles. "_It'll be okay_," he assured with a grunt, eyes narrowing.

"_What's wrong with him_?" Sam questioned, strands of hair shadowing his features as he crossed one leg over the other. The chair in which he sat let out a withering squeak.

"I _dunno_'," Dean lied with an averted glance, shoulders tensing as the angel's sobs leapt with a crescendo. All color had drained from his face. "_Cass, you gotta' snap out of it_."

Castiel's spine arched and with a sudden series of wrenched heaves stale vomit erupted from between his chapped lips.

Sam stared ahead, horrified. Wincing he brought his fingers against his ears, blocking the animalistic sounds bursting from within the angel's chest. "_Dean_," he spluttered with accusation as he caught his brother's equally frightened gaze. "_What the hell did you do_?"

"I _dunno_'," Dean cried out yet again.

"I know when you're lying, Dean."

"What are you – _Santa Claus_?"

"That's sleeping, Dean." The youngest hunter recoiled as the angel flopped against the wooden panels of the floor, cheekbones pressed into the regurgitated fries with exhaustion. "Seriously, get him a wash cloth or something. That's gross."

"Well _ho-ho-ho_ to you too," Dean muttered. "It's just a little puke. He'll be fine."

"Right, because that's such a _normal_ thing for angels to do," Sam griped dryly. "Seriously, Dean. What the _fuck_ did you do to him? Tequila shots off a hooker?"

"Sammy, if Cass had participated in a time honored tradition such as that he wouldn't be hurling his brains out right now. He'd still be at the bar licking some chick named Candy's navel and he'd be doing it with pride."

"You're hilarious, Dean."

"I try."

"Dude, he's _bawling_," Sam marveled, a bit baffled by the sight before him. "At least get him to shut up for now. People are gonna' start wondering what we've got going on in here."

"A sexy three way."

"_Dean_," Sam warned sternly. Castiel held his fingers against the outer rims of his earlobes, clawing at the length of his scalp – toes twitching as his calves jerked his feet about.

"_What_?"

"Do something."

Exhaling, Dean leaned over the seizing angel. "Cass, _c'mon_ – you gotta' chill."

"Oh look, Dean. You solved everything."

"Sarcasm is _not_ appreciated, Sammy."

"_Damnit, Dean._"

"Alright, alright. _Hang on a sec'_." Snapping his fingers above the angel's face, he cleared his throat. "Yo, Cass. Up here." Castiel's peered upwards, a wince still creasing his features. "What's the deal? _You sick_?"

"No he's probably just vomiting for _fun_."

"Sammy, _shut up_." Dean glowered. "Did I ask _you_? No – so back off." Returning his gaze towards the coiled figure below, he once more placed his hands atop the angel's abdomen. "Answer the question, Cass. _You sick_?" Castiel stared. "Yes? _No_?" Dean paused. " – this because I _maybe-possibly-might've_ made you lose your Grace?" he inquired nonchalantly, practically praying his brother would fail to catch on.

"_You did what!_?"

"I think it's the flu."

"Dean, you idiot." Sam's face was nearing purple now and a series of veins were throbbing along the side of his forehead.

"It's not a big deal," Dean said dismissively, though well aware of just how big a deal it was. "Cass kissed fish-chick, fish-chick kissed Cass and _woosh_ – his Grace went out the window. But its fine," he assured quickly. "When we get to the island we'll just call up Bobby and figure out how the hell we go about finding it and getting it back in 'im. Pretty damn simple if you ask me."

"Of course," Sam spluttered sarcastically. "Simple. Because that's how it _always_ is." Shaking his head, he brushed his tousled hair away from his eyes. "So let me guess, Dean. I'll bet you had something to do with that kissing, didn't you?"

Dean's shoulders rose and fell with a tiny shrug. "What can I say, Sammy? I believe in love."

"_Jesus Christ_."

"Careful, Sammy. Don't wanna' upset Cass."

"Dean I _love_ you."

"Yeah, yeah I know," Dean said a bit ruefully. " - _but if we weren't brothers, you'd kill me_."


	15. Chapter 15: butt bump

**fifteen. **

- - -

"All right, Dean. I got in touch with Bobby," Sam muttered as he strode through the cabin door, hands neatly tucked within his pockets.

"_Oh yeah_?" Dean's left brow rose in a tired arch. "How's that?"

"The husband in the room two doors down had a satellite phone. Let me use it if I promised to consider '_repenting my sins of butt-bumping'_," he said as he curled his fingertips in quotations with a twisted frown.

Dean grinned as he wrung the washcloth he had clutched in his hands under the bathroom's running faucet. "I can't believe you sold out our fake little marriage for a ten second phone call."

"I thought you of all people would be happy," Sam snarled.

"Cool it, Sammy. I was just giving you crap." Dean gave the damp towel a final squeeze before shutting the sink's valve off. "So, what'd he say?"

Heaving a miniature sigh, the youngest hunter's shoulders rose and then fell with a crash as he shook his head. Flopping atop the mattress, he folded his arms behind his head before running his hands down along the contour of his face. "Not a hell of a lot," he said a bit incoherently. "Mostly just what we already knew."

"Which isn't a lot by _itself_." Lips pursed, Dean knelt upon the wood paneled restroom floor with an intense crack of his knees. "_Cass_," he chirped gently. "Lift your head for a second, buddy."

Hands easing from atop the back of his skull, the angel's face lifted from its position just barely amongst the toilet bowl's basin of water. His dark hair clung against him, matted with tiny pearls of perspiration.

"Jesus Christ, he looks like shit."

"Way to boost the guy's self esteem, Sammy." Washcloth pinched snugly between his forefinger and thumb, Dean ran it along the perimeter of the angel's vomit caked lips. "So tell me again – what exactly _is_ it that we know."

"Like you said – not a lot."

"Cass, _stay still_." Castiel flinched. "You gonna' be sick?" Dean stared, retracting the cloth as he motioned towards the porcelain fixture.

"He's _fine_. He hasn't puked in like, two hours."

"Still," Dean said with a complacent shrug. "All right, so – back to how _little_ we know."

"Gotta' love it."

"What we _do _know is that it is possible to get this Grace shit and put it back in 'im." Dean's upper lips curled. "So how the hell do we _find_ it?"

"Bobby wasn't much help with that one."

"Yeah? What _was_ he help with?"

"He basically said that if we _do_ happen to find Cass' Grace – he'll know what to do with it," Sam relayed the information with a bit of an unfortunate sigh. "But chances are it's lost for centuries by now."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Lore says when an angel loses their Grace it falls right beneath their feet – staying there for all eternity, invisible to the one who lost it and nearly impossible to see for those who look."

"So?"

"_So_, Dean." Sam frowned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing with a grim frown. "What was beneath Cass' feet when he kissed Liesl?"

"Oh _Jesus Christ_ – the ocean. The fucking _ocean_." Pounding his fist against the pliable bathroom wall, color filled the eldest hunter's face. "_Sunnovabitch_," he cursed. "So – _what_? He stays like this forever? A puking, crying _mess_ of misery?"

"I dunno'."

Dean shook his head. "_No_," he stated defiantly. "No, this is my fault and I _won't _let him stay like this."

"_Dean_," Sam protested.

"No."

"Dean."

"Find fish-chick."

"_Damnit, Dean_."

"_Find fish-chick_," Dean articulated slowly yet sternly. "I have an idea."


	16. Chapter 16: water water everywhere

**sixteen.**

- - -

"Uh-uh." Liesl shook her head.

"You wanna' help Cass, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Then you'll do this."

"I _can't_." Liesl bit her lip.

"You can breathe underwater and you have a _tail_. If anyone can do this – it's you."

"You don't _understand_."

"Then freaking en-lighten me." Dean frowned.

"Can't."

"What – you scared of water?"

The young girl's irises darkened heavily. "Yeah," she muttered. " - _something like that_."


	17. Chapter 17: saint pukerton

**seventeen**. _saint pukerton_

- - -

Dean let out a tiny grunt as he felt two quivering fingertips prod the space between his ribs. Yanking the bed's lone quilt up and above his eyes, he turned onto his side with a regrettable yawn. The dull squawk of uneasy footsteps lolled about the cabin, stifled sniffles trapped behind a congested nose.

Groaning, Dean felt his brother's joints tighten. "Can you _try _and sleep Cass?" The way Sam asked it, it wasn't so much of a question as it was a demand.

"He hasn't said a word in two _days_, Sammy." Knuckles pressing against the flesh of his eyelids, Dean's lips snarled. "Kinda' sure he's not gonna' say _shit_ now." Castiel ignored the brothers' backbiting. Instead he wandered sideways, tottering back and forth throughout the restricted circumference of the miniature abode. "Cass," Dean barked. "_Sit the hell down_ and go to sleep." Castiel discounted the hunter's sharply tongued words, continuing his peculiarly psychotic pattern of movement.

"Maybe he's still sick."

"Unless you've been stupid enough to feed 'im, then _no_ – he's fucking fine. He just needs to settle down." Coarse hands crashing into one another with a thundering clap, Dean snapped both sets of index fingers and thumbs – pointing to the makeshift bed he had laid out for the pacing servant of the Lord the evening before. "Go to _bed_, Cass."

"Yes, Dean. Because he's _just_ like a dog." Disheveled threads of brunette strands lingered in front of Sam's eyes, but Dean could still feel the disapproving glare that was being sent his way.

"What'd you expect me to do?"

"Christ, I _dunno_'. Take him for a walk or something."

"How is that _not_ treating him like a dog?"

Sam sunk against the pillow with a sigh. "Just get him out of the cabin, alright?"

"Why? So you can _sleep_ and I can stay up with God's _numero uno_ angel, Saint Pukerton?"

"_Please_, Dean?"

"Why can't _you_ do it, Sammy?" Dean's bare arms folded across his chest, a brow arching in perplexity as he watched his little brother turn along the mattress with an aggrieved expression.

"_Because_ whenever we were kids and I got sick you _always _managed to make me feel better," Sam muttered rather dryly. "But whenever _you_ started staring down that toilet like it was your only friend left in the world I would freak out and bail."

"Tons of people don't like puke, Sammy. Ain't really something to be ashamed of," Dean said with a dismissive shrug. "_But _I get it, you're squeamish and it's fine. I'll watch Cass."

"_No_." Brushing his hair from his face, Sam locked gazes with his older brother and shook his head so hard that Dean had to stop himself from reaching forward to hold it still. "Fuck, that. Dean, if I couldn't handle a little puke I wouldn't be able to _do_ half the stuff we _do_."

"_So_ – then what's the deal?" Dean sat still, visibly confused.

Sam's eyes widened as if the point he was trying to make was far more obvious than his sibling was making it out to be. "The _deal, _Dean is that you're my big brother. You take care of me. You've _always _taken care of me," he said with full traces of admiration lilting in his voice. "You're supposed to be invincible."

"Which is why I just got back from a _stunning_ vacation in Hell," Dean commented a bit deprecatingly.

"Exactly," Sam concurred before retracting his statement with another shake of the head. "I mean, _no_. The point is I can't deal with not seeing you as some sort of superhero – I guess."

"Dean-man at your services." Dean licked his lower lip. "I like it, Sammy. I like it."

"Dean, you're missing the point."

"The power to pleasure women everywhere." Pausing, he corrected himself. "_Hot_ women," he added with a knowing smirk.

"Dean, c'mon."

"Sammy, chill out. I get it. It's the same thing with Cass," Dean interrupted, almost relishing in the pathetic nature radiating from his baby brother's irises. It was a far cry from the collected and composed version of himself that Sam had been flaunting around lately. In fact, it felt more like the Sammy he used to know – before Jess' death, before Dad's death, before _hunting_. In a moment of compassion, Dean wrapped his arms around the younger hunter's shoulders and squeezed tightly. "I get it, _okay_?" he whispered against his brother's ear, feeling the body he was holding go slack against his own as if in reminiscent comfort. "Go back to bed," he urged – only this time not to the angel.

"You _sure_?"

"_Yeah_, Sammy." Dean nodded carefully. "I'm sure."


	18. Chapter 18: burned

**eighteen**.

- - -

"Oh you _gotta_' be kidding me." Dean's pupils rolled from within their lidded prisons as his neck tilted upwards against itself with a tired bleat. "Who the _hell _gave you food," he queried throatily, perceptively disgruntled as Castiel suddenly bolted forth – falling on bowed knees before the border of the main deck's swimming pool as his insides unleashed themselves into the chlorinated chasm below. "Do you _not_ get the concept of this whole puking thing, Cass?" Stocky legs clambering beneath himself, Dean strode towards the graceless being. "You don't put food _in_ when your body just wants to throw it right back _out_," he chastised curtly.

"You ever lose anything?" Fairly startled by the sudden shift in timbre, Dean's face snapped in a swift jerk as a feminine slap of delicate feet loitered from behind.

"My temper – yeah, all the _damn time_." Dean shot the otherwise intruder a fierce stare, taking a seat aside the presently silent angel as he placed a placating fist along the base of his companion's spine. Features contorting into a wince as the sight of vomit swirling amongst the pool's assortment of colorful floating toys and lounge chairs stung the air before him. "_Sunnovabitch_, Cass," he sniped softly as the angel pulled himself up upon his hamstrings, crouching slightly as his stomach readied itself for another disembarking of partially-digested pieces. "That better not be blood."

"Just beets," Liesl interjected helpfully.

"Right – and how would _you_ know?" The aquatic creature's shoulders rose and fell with a sense of carelessness.

"Saw him eating 'em a few hours ago. The lower deck has a buffet that's open later than all the rest."

"And you didn't stop him _because_?" Dean's fingertips smacked against Castiel's as the angel had begun to wrap them in tight knots upon his pallid lips. "You're _gonna_' puke whether you like it or not you idiot. Keeping your mouth closed won't do shit."

"Don't call Castiel an idiot," Liesl floundered protectively, her hands hedging themselves atop her hips with a defiant bore.

"You're _right_," Dean apologized as he flashed the girl a pair of appallingly darling eyes, wide and naïve. "Why should I save the title for just Cass when you're clearly _just_ as witless?"

A pout creased the bony creature's lips. " – _I'm not dumb_," she protested with a flustered listlessness, her gaze slithering downwards.

"Yes," Dean nodded sternly. "_You are_." Castiel, unable to keep the terrors of his intestines at bay any longer, lurched against the pool's edge – an amalgamation of tears and barely chewed buffet delicacies landing in his lap. "See if you had any brains up in that fishy head of yours – you would've taken the damn plate away from him the instant you saw it. _Instead_," he trailed off, simply gesturing towards the gory sight of the scene taking place.

"He was hungry," Liesl objected bleakly.

"Alright, _humor me sugar'_." Easing the angel into a sitting position, Dean glanced at the maritime treasure. "If you _know_ the tank is gonna' blow – do you still fill it anyway?"

Liesl shifted on both feet. "_No_," she warbled sorrowfully.

"_Exactly_," Dean shouted. "But you sat there like an idiot – which is _why_ I'm calling you an _idiot_," he carefully articulated the word as if for show.

" - _you're not very nice_." By now the mermaid's voice had dropped beyond audibility as she stood terrified like a lost infant.

"Shouldn't have to be sweetheart," Dean said tactlessly. "Life doesn't give a shit about how nice you are. You don't get some prize at the end for having good manners. When it's all said and done it doesn't matter if you held every damn door for every damn old lady – you still end up in a pit of fire and nothing for miles but pain. _Always_ pain."

"Not Cass."

"No offense, fish face but I can pretty much guarantee Cass is feeling that pain and fire right about now. Doesn't matter _who you are_ or _what you do_ – no one escapes it."

"My face is human."

Confused, Dean paused. " – _what_?"

"You called me fish face."

"I did, yes."

"My face is human."

"You're a freakin' mermaid."

"So then I have a _tail_," Liesl muttered slowly. "My face never changes."

"Oh," Dean said plainly.

"_Now_ who's stupid?"

"Pretty sure it's still you," Dean bullied. "After all who _started_ this whole shitshow?"

"_You_," Liesl cried out with frustration. "_You did_! I _told _you to leave it alone but you're just another stubborn _asshole _who thinks he knows better than everyone else. Anything Cass or I said, you just let it go right on by that pin headed brain of yours and out the other ear."

"Well it sure as hell wasn't _my_ kiss that shot his Grace to shit," Dean retorted, frowning.

"I'm _sorry_ I couldn't bend the rules of the universe to save you from this horrible inconvenience," Liesl spat sarcastically, lines forming along the bridge of her nose. "Let me just call up the boss and see if he can change everything around to better suit _your_ needs."

"_Thank you_," Dean spat with an equal amount of rage and deadpan. "I would very much appreciate that."

"God, you are so _stupid_." The tiny girl's fingertips brushed against her temples before sliding down her face with a shocked look upon her countenance. "I mean I knew your brother was the rational one but _seriously_. It's like you have _no_ concept of how things are run."

"I know that if you weren't too busy eyeing up _humans_ for dessert then Cass wouldn't be heave-ho'ing his guts into this pool and I wouldn't be awake against my will."

Red and purple hues struck like jagged lightening throughout Liesl's veins. "_Mermaids don't eat people_," she screamed with vexation, seemingly amazed at the hunter's attitude. "Where the hell do you get this stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"Your complete and utter _lack_ of a grip on the real world," Liesl seethed, visibly dumbfounded.

"Yeah well you spend some time in Hell and let me know how your big shiny world looks when you get back," Dean bucked.

"You know why I didn't stop Cass from eating tonight?"

"Because you're a genetic reject that the planet should've been wiped clean of years ago." Though he wasn't sure, Dean could've sworn he saw the mermaid recoil that very instant – as though his comment had hit her like a barrage of unruly fists.

Inhaling, Liesl steadied herself. "_No_," she stated with obvious forced tranquility. "I let him because he lost something very important to him. You get that, _right_? Or whatever," she sidetracked with a wave of her fingertips. "Maybe you don't. The point is – do you know what it feels like to lose the one thing you hold above everything else in your life?"

Dean flinched – visions of Sammy dead, that knife in his back, the hollow stare raiding his sockets. "_Yeah_," he murmured.

"Then you know how badly it hurts when it's not there anymore – like there's just some hole digging its way into you and all you want to do is fill it."

" – you'll do just about anything."

"_Exactly_," Liesl said with quiet triumph. "No matter how stupid, no matter how insane you do anything to make it better - ."

Recollections of the crossroads demon – the deal, the shame, the _pride_. Saving Sammy – it had always been his _job_. It would always _be_ his job. " - _even if it makes it worse_," he completed her statement with a rueful nod.

"Do you see what I mean?"

"Yeah," Dean accepted in a hollow tone. "I do."

"So what happened to you?"

Gaze shifting, Dean stared. "_Mm'_?"

"You know," Liesl prompted with all seriousness sweeping her features. "What happened when you filled _your_ hole?"

"I burned."


	19. Chapter 19: wash

**nineteen**._ wash_

- - -

"Dean, this is – _weird_."

"Yeah, well _buck up_ Sammich." Faucet running a steady stream of heated water into the bathtub below, the eldest hunter flicked his palm under the shower of droplets. "Probably still a little too hot."

"I'm _not_ doing this," Sam protested, noticeably perturbed.

"Yes," Dean responded quietly as he shot his brother a pointed glance. "You are."

Head sashaying back and forth with utmost vehemence, Sam's lips tightened against the shape of his mouth. "I'm _not_," he insisted. "I'm not." Turning slightly, he threw the tiny bathroom's third figure a rueful wince. "I'm _sorry_ Cass," he said bluntly. "It's just too weird."

"No shit it's weird."

"Then why do it?"

Dean stared his younger brother down. "Because he _needs_ one," he explicated dully. "Cass, _c'mere_," he motioned towards the nearly overflowing basin of water. "Too hot?" Castiel stared at the tub, numbly reaching into its moist expanse with an unwaveringly stoic countenance. Dean watched in silence, clearly trying to read the expressionless face in front of his own. "_No_?"

"I get that he stinks."

"_Stinks_ is too kind a word, Sammy. It's like if every awful truck stop lunch we've ever seen found their way here and just laid down on the floor to die." Dean paused guiltily. "_No offense_, Cass."

"We _really_ don't have to do this you know," the tallest hunter whined, feet shifting awkwardly as he yanked at the tip of his ear.

"What's the matter – scared a'seeing an angel's girly parts? I'm pretty sure they're all like Ken dolls down there. Don't worry."

"_Asshole_," Sam hissed bitterly. "Besides, it's not like that."

"Sam, if you'd spent the past few days spewing all over yourself don't you think you'd appreciate a bath," Dean disputed evenly. "Cass – _shirt_," he ordered, aping the action as he pretended to slide his own tattered excuse of a tee-shirt off over his head. Castiel observed silently before obeying the hunter's instructions.

Quickly, Sam averted his gaze. "_Great_," he said with an intimation of a groan.

"_Damnit_, Sammy will you man up already?"

"It's _weird_," Sam repeated for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. Holding onto his arm, he slunk against the wall as if the few inches he was retracting himself was an escape of its own.

"Well suck it up 'cause it's about to get a _hell_ of a lot weirder then," Dean cautioned, eyes steely as he reached forth to assist the quavering beast of the sky.

"Just hose 'im down."

"Seriously, Sammy. _Get over it_," Dean snapped impatiently, his brother's curt attitude clearly causing him a fair amount of irritation. "Do you know how _many _times I've done this shit for you and never once did I ever fucking _complain_? Hell, when we were kids this was a _nightly_ occasion. You _hated_ being dirty. You hated it so much that you would cry like a little girl if you didn't get your stupid bath and with dad always on a hunt who was there to strip you down and soap you up?"

"Way to turn my childhood into a prison style porno, Dean."

"You know what I mean, Sam."

"Yeah, but c'mon I was just a _kid_ Dean. And Cass _is_," trailing off mid sentence, Sam scrambled for the proper term.

" – not used to the meat suit he's wearing."

"If you put it that way."

"Look, Sammy - I just want the stench outta' this _damn_ room. To do _that _Cass needs a bath, alright? An' I _really_ don't want Jesus Christ teleporting his ass down here because we let one of his dad's chosen warriors or whatever drown in a stupid ass bathtub. _Tell you what_," he bartered. "You just get 'im ready, okay? I can handle the creepy part."

"_Fine_," Sam grumbled, shoulders slumping with defeat.

"Good," Dean drawled with an evil grin. "Now get his pants off."

"God, I hate you."

"Oh, and _Sammy_?"

The youngest hunter glowered mightily. "_What_?"

"Don't drop the soap."


	20. Chapter 20: ken dolls

**twenty.**

- - -

"Cass, you _gotta'_ open your mouth." Lying belly down upon the now neatly folded quilt, Sam's ears prickled at the strange sounds reverberating through the tiny crack underneath the bathroom door.

"Do I _want_ to know what's going on in there?" Half teasing, half hesitant to truly know the answer that would follow.

"If you hadn't run out like a little _pussy_ you wouldn't have to ask," Dean bellowed, the thin walls letting loose with a quake. "But if you must know," he continued as he cracked the wooden entry – slivers of dully colored light pouring out like mist. "Dude a level up's a psychi-quack. Let me borrow a coupl'a pills for Cass – _you know_. Get 'im to feel _better_," he finished with a plainly derisive cringe.

"I thought you said psychiatry was for – _and I quote_ – whiny little assholes that have nothing better to do with their lives then bitch to anyone who will listen."

"Oh, it is. It definitely is – _but_," Dean countered. "If it gets the waterworks to chill then it's _fine _by me. Now I just need 'em to take it. _Cass_," the tiniest of the hunters directed. "Open your mouth and _take it_. Good," Sam could hear his brother say with an indication of superior contentment. "Now _swallow_."

Sam groaned loudly. "How do you _not_ hear a bad porno when you say that?"

"Because I don't waste myself on _crap_. It's class all the way for _this_ guy."

"Yes, because two Asian girls with anime masks screwing a guy in a donkey costume is _truly_ upper crust."

"Crème de le crème, brother."

"_No_ amount of therapy could've undone what I saw."

"You're never gonna' let it go, are you Sammy?"

"You left it as my screen saver, Dean. My _first _day of college and I was already labeled the freak the minute I opened my lap top."

"You're a freak by _birth_, Sammy. Just accept it. And just so you know, _no_ amount of ivy league and pretending was gonna' change that," Dean called out. "You really _should_ be thanking me, you know."

"Thanking you – _right_," Sam glowered with miserable derision.

"Alright, Sammy."

"Alright, _what_?"

"Need your help in here again."

"_Oh no_. I did my part. It's all on you." He could hear Dean swearing in response, yet chose to disregard.

"Sammy, please."

"Can't handle the Ken doll after all or did Ken end up having a _little_ more than just plastic underwear down there?"

"And you say _I'm_ the sick one?"

"I had to learn it somewhere."

"Sammy, _c'mon_." Dean's voice had rose into a childish whine, fingertips sliding beneath the crack of the door as he flicked them lightly – as if in summons. "It's like he's half sponge. I swear he weighs like fifteen pounds more than when I put him in here."

"You mean when _I_ put him in there," Sam interposed, calling over his shoulder. "You practically sobbed when it was your turn."

He could hear Dean shift from behind the walls. "I had something in my eye," he evaded with culpable palpitation.

"Yeah – I forgot there was an infestation of 'whiny little bitch' in the air."

"Seriously, Sammy. Just help me out here."

Clearly beaten, Sam exhaled with a noisy sigh. "_Fine_. But, Dean?"

"_Yeah_, Sammy?"

"This _never_ leaves the ship."


	21. Chapter 21: sinking

**twenty one**.

- - -

"You better be able to explain yourself."

Dean's sleep-laden lids wavered at the torrential outpour of rage that was being directed his way. "Look who's _finally_ talkin' again," he muttered thickly with a delicate and boyish grin. " – guess those magic pills worked after all."

Castiel held a tiny scrap of paper tightly against his chest, knuckles colorless as he clutched at it all the harder. "Explain yourself."

Suppressing a muted yawn, Dean stared at the shadowy figure above. "Explain, _what_ Cass?"

"_This_." Dean squinted at the parchment thrust before his features.

"_What_? Sammy write you a love letter or somethin'?"

Not skipping a beat, Castiel watched sullenly ahead. "No," he droned as resolute irises kept still. "It's Liesl."

Dean frowned playfully. "I dunno' Cass. You sure? Last time I saw her she definitely had more color to her face and some more – well you know, _depth_," he teased as he motioned towards his chest with folded hands. "She looks a little flat now."

"She left."

"_So_? Don't fish _migrate_ or some shit like that? It'll be back," Dean said reassuringly.

"Liesl is not an _it_," Castiel seethed. "And she won't be back. Not if she's in the water already."

"Couldn't be – think she's scared of it or _somethin_' lame like that." Dean's shoulders lifted and fell with a miniscule shrug.

"Of _course_ she's scared, Dean. If your _entire_ species was destroyed at the hand of one demon in a matter of minutes – I think you'd be scared too."

Dean recoiled. " – _the seal_."

"Yes," Castiel nodded. "The seal – which is now _guaranteed_ to break thanks to you."

"Hey now," Dean interjected throatily as he cleared the phlegm from its depths. "How in the _hell_ did this turn into my fault?"

Castiel pinched the memorandum tightly. "She says you told her to save me."

"Well – _yeah,_" Dean said helplessly, glancing about. "If your Grace is just chilling on the bottom of the ocean, she's _pretty_ much the only damn chance ya' got."

Castiel suddenly stomped his foot fatalistically as though a tiny child amidst a temper tantrum and Dean could see the still present pain and traces of illness swarming from every centimeter of his pores.

"But," he said weakly, chest deflating. "I was supposed to save _her_."


	22. Chapter 22: holy water batman!

**twenty two**. _its not a war, no its not a rapture_

- - -

"Shit."

"Dean, stop saying _shit_."

"_Shit_."

"_Dean_!"

"You've gotta' be freaking _kidding _me, here." Knuckles landing on top of one another with an emphatic crunch, Dean sat along the perimeter of the mattress – irises focused on the laces of his ratted sneakers.

"Why didn't you tell us, Cass?" Despite the clement temperament of his voice, the creases upon Sam's forehead suggested a considerably different attitude towards the situation.

"I had _mentioned_ to Dean that Liesl was one of the seals," Castiel replied flatly.

"Yeah, but you said you had it all _taken care_ of," Dean retaliated hastily, jumping to his feet as a surge of displeasure coursed through his veins.

"It _was_," Castiel said quietly.

"Yeah – if it stayed on the _boat_."

Castiel's nostrils flared slightly, fingers folding into the palms of his hands. "I told you not to call her an _it_," he spouted with uncharacteristic brutality.

"_Dean_," Sam warned gently.

"All I'm sayin' is that you _could've_ mentioned there was a catch – no pun intended."

"As I've told you – I did not foresee it as an _issue_."

"Right, I _got_ that." Dean's upper lip curled. "So now what – Liesl's just fish food for Lilith?"

Castiel glared wretchedly, his chest tightening with miserable mouthfuls of air. Hoping to alleviate the situation, Sam quickly stepped in – arm extending between the two quarreling males, creating a firm barrier. "_Cass_," he prodded gently as he glanced over his shoulder towards the incensed celestial creature. "What does Lilith _need_ to do to break the seal?"

A stationary flash of charcoal hued wings leapt across the cabin's expanse, Castiel's countenance constricting.

"She had to kill the human race."

Sam squinted. "So then – why is _Liesl _in trouble?"

"Lilith couldn't kill off the human race if she tried. She loves it too much – the _sin_, the anger, and the _hatred_ you all feel. She feeds off of it."

"So she picked the next best thing," Sam surmised with an understanding nod. "Mermaids are half human and significantly less sinful. She would've had _no_ problem getting rid of them."

"_Exactly_," Castiel breathed sadly.

"So if Lilith off'd her entire fish family in a matter of _minutes_ – then, how did Liesl survive?" Dean could still feel his pulse leaping – the manifestation of the heavenly creature's wings having gotten the best of him. Taking a few shallow gulps of air, he did his best to slow his racing heartbeat – disguising the act with a hand to his lips, clearing his throat loudly. Sam shot his brother a peculiar look though Castiel appeared not to notice.

Castiel shrugged, his trench coat billowing at the soles of his naked feet. " – _she was on land_?" he guessed as the underside of his tongue slid along the muscle of his lips.

"So then there was no way to distinguish her from the rest of the human species," Sam said as though gradually putting the pieces together.

"When we were sent to stop Lilith it was too late."

"So then how did you find Liesl?" Dean questioned as he glanced about the cabin.

"It was Uriel who first heard rumors that there might've been a survivor. We spent _weeks _tracking her down," Castiel reminisced. "She must've heard about what had happened and was too scared to return to the water. When I finally found her she was stowed away on this ship, just standing on top of the railing and watching the froth below."

"I heard about that," Sam interjected. "When mermaids die they turn into sea foam, yeah?" Castiel nodded, and Dean's torso let loose with a sickened shudder as the imagery hit him hard.

"So it must've looked like a fucking _bloodbath_ to her," Dean muttered, the thinnest sides of his neck tightening with a cringe.

"There's something I don't understand though," Sam supplemented speedily. "If all it took was _water_ for Lilith to recognize the last of the species – then why the show in the pool? I mean, wouldn't Lilith _know_?"

"You _sunnovabitch_, you used holy water, didn't you?" Dean couldn't hide the glimmer of the sly smirk that had percolated at the corners of his lips.

"She _loved_ the water," Castiel said unhappily, eyes shutting for a brief instant. "I couldn't take that away from her. She'd lost _everything_ else."

"Man you are _really_ soft on this chick aren't you?" Dean's obnoxiously wide smile spread even further.

"It doesn't matter," Castiel spat bitterly. Both hunters recoiled. "By now Lilith's found her and none of it matters. I was _supposed_ to watch her and I was _supposed_ to keep her safe." Dean couldn't help but relate to the sentiment, eyes shifting towards Sam for a split second.

"Look, Cass. _Chill_," Dean ordered. "No offense but I don't think your girl's as innocent and sweet as you say she is. In fact, not even gonna' lie - she scares the _crap _outta' me," he declared with disinclination. "Seriously, I wouldn't write her off just yet, okay? Obviously she _wanted_ to help you. You can't beat yourself up over that. _Here's_ what we're gonna' do," he stated carefully so as to be sure the angel understood. "We're gonna' give her the benefit of the doubt – alright?" Castiel stared in silence. "_Alright_?"

"Alright."

"Give her a _chance_ to do what she went to do before you just write her off as dead. Shit, I can't tell you how many times I've seen Sam walk out the door while thinking to myself _'adios worm food' _– you know_?_"

Sam glowered. "Thanks _so much_ Dean," he noted dryly.

"_Do you_ _understand_?" Dean watched Castiel warily, feeling as though he was speaking to a child.

Castiel nodded deliberately. "I do," he averred.

"Good."

Castiel paused. "I think I feel ill again," he enumerated reluctantly as he placed quavering hands atop his abdomen.

"You're just upset," Sam assured soothingly. "You'll be fine."

"Just stop thinking about it," Dean said. "_C'mon_. There's a bar on the third deck, we'll get some drinks. Okay?" He peered closely at the heavenly servant before him. "_Cass_," he murmured tenderly as the angel fidgeted with his side, squeezing his fingertips against the space between his ribs.

"_What_?" Dean grabbed the angel's hands away from himself, tightening his grip as if to show that there was no chance in Hell that he was letting him go – letting him go _anywhere _for that matter.

"_Cass_," Dean stated evenly. "_Listen to me, _will you_?_. It's gonna' be _okay. You're_ okay. Your _belly's _okay_. It's okay_." He could feel the angel's palms perspiring against his own as sadness filled the creature's moisture swollen eyes. "Seriously, Cass. It's _gonna'_ be okay," he reiterated ardently. "I _swear_."


	23. Chapter 23: bromo sapien

**twenty three**.

- - -

"I _told_ you he still looked sick."

"_Shut up_, Sammy." The two hunters sat at a plastic folded table, an array of colored beads and strands of string laid out before them. "Jesus, never did I think I'd be doing arts and crafts with my baby brother." The young couple at their side shot them a confused glance and Dean quickly rattled a tinny cough throughout his throat. "Baby – _love monkey_," he corrected.

"Yes well crafts is actually part of a _normal_ childhood," Sam grunted a bit bitterly as he continued to thread a series of silvery glittered beads overtop an elastic band.

"Will you _please_ lose this boner you have for a normal childhood – hell a normal _life_," Dean leaned towards the left – peering over at the figure bent at the foot of the railing. "Did you _actually_ see him puke again?" he questioned in reference towards the greenly hued servant of the Lord.

The young couple inched towards one another, whispering far more loudly than they seemed to believe they were. "They must've taken on a _lover_," the wife hissed, eyes widening as though the subject was all too taboo.

Elbow jerking towards Sam, Dean's mouth spread into an uncontrollably amused grin. "Dude, are you _hearing_ this? Oh, _man_."

"_Dean_," Sam cautioned. "Let it go." Holding his half finished creation into the air, he waved the dazzling string of plastic baubles before his brother's eyes. "Does this look even to you?"

"Could you _be_ any gayer?"

"Just because I take _pride_ in the things I do," Sam retaliated with flared nostrils. His features softened as he glanced sideways. "_Hey_, Cass," he addressed sympathetically.

Dean paused, the sensation of fingertips jabbing against the back of his shoulder blades. Exhaling with a grave sigh, he held his chin against his clavicle. "What's up, Cass?" Castiel squeezed at his left side with a bothered watercourse of tears dripping down his chin. "Are we doing the silent thing again?"

Noticing that the married couple had ceased their jewelry making, observing the scene intently – Sam did his best to intervene. "Do you need to lie down, Cass?" Castiel seemed to ponder the thought, nodding in the midst of the waterway of salt water that continued to cascade upon his features.

"Were you sick again?" Dean asked, aping a gag – noting that Castiel appeared to be rather dazed and unfocused. "_Sick_," he repeated, splaying his fingertips in front of his mouth as he shot the angel a curious look. "Yes, no?" Castiel nodded, lips tightening further against his teeth.

"Is he retarded?" The young wife spoke up, her husband quickly ducking down with humiliation.

Torn between the urge to snicker and the urge to happily beat the crap out of the judgmental couple, Dean turned to face the newlyweds. "_Excuse me_?" he questioned with disbelief.

"I think he's not talking because he's afraid if he opens his mouth he's going to throw up. I saw a special on retarded people last month it's something they do."

"First of all, you're like the furthest thing from politically correct so please stop acting like you are. Secondly, no he's not fucking _retarded_. Where the hell did you get that load of shit?"

"Don't talk to my wife like that," the husband burst out in a sudden moment of bravery. "She already _told _you she saw it on television."

"Either way, whether or not he's gonna' puke the one who should have their mouth shut is _you two_."

"Dean, _c'mon_." Sam's brow lifted as he shared a look with his brother.

"No but seriously, ever since we sat down you've been staring at us like a bunch of circus freaks. Whispering in your little football huddle over the shiny beads. Get a _life_," he drawled angrily. Suddenly aware that Castiel had begun to grab at his abdomen quite a bit more violently then before - Dean slid his legs over the table's equally vacillating and plastic bench. Side-saddling the seat, he reached forward to grab the heavenly beast's wrists – guiding the angel into a horizontal position upon the bench. "_Cass_," he whirred. "If you stop getting so upset you'll stop feeling so sick."

"You need help with him?" Sam offered unexpectedly.

"Yeah, can you get his feet?" Dean queried as he assisted Castiel into the fetal position, his head upon the eldest hunter's lap as his knees knocked cruelly against his sternum. "_Deep _breaths, Cass," he insisted slowly – inhaling greatly as well.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves," the snooty wife interjected without delay.

"Oh yeah?" Dean's brow arched as he eased Castiel, sliding him an inch or so as Sam took a seat further down the bench – propping the angel's bony ankles upon his own lap.

"It's like you _people_ have no concept of the sanctity of marriage," she stated with disgust.

"And by us people you _mean_," Sam waited for her to continue.

"Gays."

For once Dean didn't try to protest or deny. Instead he was rather enjoying the squirming that was taking place between the high and mighty couple. "Oh, yeah _that_. Man, I totally forgot that's what we were. How 'bout you Sammy?"

"We're _gay_?" Sam feigned incredulity. "God, we should just shoot ourselves now and do ourselves a favor."

"I know, right?" The couples' cheeks burned a brilliant red.

"That's not what I meant," the wife muttered, clearly upset by the hunters' mocking words.

"Colors aren't as bright," Sam continued, holding a dramatic back of his hand against his forehead. "Doughnuts don't taste as sweet."

"We might as well jump overboard, right Sammy?"

Sam nodded in concurrence. "Oh, yeah. _Totally,_" he lisped, sending the couple a poignant glance as he did so. With baited breaths and clenched fists, the newlyweds quickly excused themselves from the table – heads hung low as they shuffled out of sight as speedily as their legs would allow them to. Sam burst into loud peals of laughter, nearly doubling over as he caught a final glance of their disgraced little faces.

"Way to go _Sammy_. If people didn't think we were gay already that little '_totally_' totally sold it," Dean crowed with a boyish grin. Castiel stirred uneasily, lips parting at last as he expelled the afternoon's bottle of beer onto the holed wood deck beneath with a frightened belch. As if on cue, both Dean and Sam each tightened their clasp on their respective ends – Dean stroking the angel's hair soothingly, and Sam holding his calves in support. "Dude, I don't know what that lady was talking about."

"I know, _right_?"

"Yeah, I mean – _Cass_ - retarded?"

"_Such_ a joke," Sam agreed.

"And us a bunch of unfaithful _bro_-mos?"

"Insanity."

"No kidding," Dean paused. "Seriously though, if you even _try_ to cheat on our fake relationship – I _will_ go full Carrie Underwood on your ass."

"You realize the Impala is my car too, now – right? There's no way you're slashing your baby up even if it _is_ to impersonate your favorite blonde babe of country."

"Oh _yeah_," Dean mused with a nod. "Well in _that_ case – I guess I'll just have to whack you _really_ hard in the nuts." Sam shuddered at the thought.

"Thanks, Dean."

"_Anytime_, Sam."


	24. Chapter 24: aloha cabin fever

**twenty four**.

- - -

"Please tell me that's land."

"It's land, Dean."

Dean turned towards his brother, a serious look upon his features as he grabbed his younger sibling by the shoulders tightly. "Sammy," he said with a pokerfaced solemn. "I could kiss you."

The cruise ship's bell clanged throughout the deck, a fairly butch woman shouting out: "_Land ho_!"

"You do," Sam addressed, eyes superbly ascetic as he narrowed his brow. "And Hell really _will_ look like a vacation." Dean beamed proudly. "What're you grinning about?" he questioned suspiciously.

Dean shook his head, unable to wipe the smirk from his lips as he clapped his brother against his shoulder blades firmly. "I'm just glad you didn't end up falling for me on this romantic little getaway of ours."

"Dean, that's insane. You're my _brother_."

"Doesn't stop the charm, baby bro'. People like me? Well we can't help who falls for us – mothers, brothers, and even the occasional nun."

Sam stared warily. "_Uh huh_," he said, unconvinced.

"Doubt the power of the charm all you want, Sammich. I'm just happy to know you managed to avoid the allure that is all of this," Dean said as he gesticulated from his head to his torso with a knowingly glance. "Few _can_ resist."

"Dean, don't take this the wrong way but I'm so glad we're almost off this ship."

"Yeah?" Dean's brows arched. "_Why'zat_?"

"Because it's turned you totally _insane_."


	25. Chapter 25: rock salt superhero

**twenty five.**

- - -

"Cass, just lie _down_," Dean instructed sympathetically. Castiel stared up at the hunter, hands folded atop his throbbing belly like an obedient school child. "I want you to stay here – in the room, okay? Can you do that, Cass?" he questioned carefully, wanting to be more than just _sure_ that the angel understood him. "Sam and I are going to go check out those hauntings."

_Finally_, what the entire trip had been about in the first place. A knock thundered upon the door of the modest island hotel room. "Dean," Sam called out, his eyes peeking out from underneath his hirsute mane of raggedy brown threads as he stepped forward. "I got the rock salt – _so_ whenever you're ready," he alluded with a nod of the head.

"Give me a sec'," Dean answered, gaze leveling with that of the angel's. "You _understand _Cass?" he intoned slowly. Castiel nodded after a minute's deliberation, and Dean found himself sighing with relief. "_Good_," he exhaled. "Look, I'm leaving Sammy's cell phone here – you know, in case of an emergency."

"If you call you _have_ to _talk_," Sam interrupted rather firmly. "You can't just stay silent or else we won't know what you want."

"Sammy's right, Cass," Dean agreed. "No more of this _mime_ bullshit. You got a problem, you _gotta_' say something. Your buddy upstairs might be able to read minds but _we_ sure as shit can't."

"Otherwise just try and sleep," Sam urged kindly, brushing the hair off the bridge of his nose. "We'll be back in a few hours to check on you, all right?"

Castiel nodded again. Dean clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly as he reached for the pistol that protruded from the outer pocket of the backpack he had left sprawled out on the carpeted floor. "_All right_," he whooped.

Sam eyed his brother nervously. "You're awfully _excited_," he observed with a slight croak of the throat, clearing the phlegm noisily.

"What can I say, Sammy?" Dean beamed, his fingers cramming a handful of bullets into the weapon with a positively glowing grin. "_Love_ the life or _hate_ the life, it's just nice to be doing something we're fucking good at."

"I guess," Sam said blandly. "You're not going to say something cheesy like '_lock and load_' are you?" he inquired with a wince.

"Of course not. I thought you knew me better than that," Dean scoffed, appearing offended as he shoved the pistol into the back pocket of his jeans.

"_Sorry_."

"Don't worry about it – oh and _Sammy_?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, Dean?" Dean grinned fiendishly.

"_Lock and load_." Sam uttered a groan.

"You must think you're hilarious."

"Yeah, well what can I say?" Dean bounded towards the door, checking from the corner of his eye that Cass was still safely beneath the bed's quilted covers. "I'm a rock salt superhero - gotta' find the humor in life _somehow_."

"That is the _gayest_ thing I've ever heard."

"Not as gay as your face."

"Will you stop being such a _child_," Sam demanded, glaring heavily. Dean frowned, fingertips idly playing with the handle of the pistol.

"I know you are but what am I," Dean muttered beneath his breath glumly. Sam shook his head.

"I _will_ slap you."

"I love you Sammy."

Sam sighed aloud as he caught his brother's doe eyed glance and apologetically large grin. Massaging his temples he tossed his hands in the air and twisted the doorknob beside him with a rigid _clank_. "I love you too."


	26. Chapter 26: foam

**twenty six.**

- - -

"See anything?" Sam's neck craned around the boulder, a throng of palm trees intertwining a few paces to the left.

"Not a damn thing," Dean grunted with irritation, swiping at his bleary eyes with the rump of the pistol.

"Be careful with that thing."

"It's just a little rock salt," Dean ostracized, irises pirouetting in a perfect circle.

"Yeah well rock salt or no rock salt, it all hurts the same when you shoot it at someone's _junk_," Sam spat brazenly.

"Let's face it, Sammy. I hit your junk I'm doing the world a favor," Dean stated with a slightly upturned grin. "Knowing you, you're enough of a sentimental pussy to wake up one day and think it's a good idea to spread your genetics."

"What – start a _family_?"

Dean jittered where he stood, pushing the cased cell phone out of his pocket as he felt the tiny buzzing of vibrations torpedo down his hamstrings. "I won't even get started on the many levels of _wrong-ness_ that term is," he muttered as he flipped the electronic device's screen into view.

"Family is _wrong-ness_ to you? Dean," Sam gaped as his older brother fiddled with the impossibly tiny buttons of the phone, eyes narrowing into a squint. "_We're_ family."

"Yeah, but not like – what everyone _else_ thinks of when they hear the word. Hell, not even what _you_ think of."

"What're you even _talking_ about?" Glancing up at the youngest hunter, Dean's gaze settled into a volatile glare.

"Sammy, all you ever talk about is _normal this_ and _normal that_ – wishing you'd _been_ normal, wishing you _were_ normal. Face it, even _you_ don't like whatever the hell we are."

"Dean you're my _brother,_" Sam said gently. "I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that _that_ wasn't enough."

Dean shrugged, turning his shoulders away as he planted his face right back in front of the cell phone's illuminated screen – trying his hardest to read what was written in front of him. "_Whatever_," he muttered, swallowing the ball of uncharacteristic emotion that had begun to form along the width of his throat. "Cass or someone else sent us a shitload of text messages."

"What makes you think it was someone else?" Sam knew when his brother wanted the subject dropped and right now was definitely one of those times.

"I dunno.' Cass could _barely_ figure out how to flush the toilet after himself so where the _hell_ did this perfect grammar and mistake free spelling come from?"

"I _guess_," Sam said dubiously, pushing his hair from his face as he tucked his own gun back into the safety of his denim pocket. "What do they even say?"

"Just to come back to the room, shit like that. Although I _definitely _think Cass typed the last one," Dean noted as his brow returned to its squinted crease, holding the screen a few centimeters from his face as he tried to read and understand the words before him. "Just a bunch of gibberish."

"We might as well – not like we found anything worthwhile out _here_." Pocketing the cell phone, Dean shrugged yet again.

"Whatever you say, Sammy."

"_Dean_," Sam said slowly, an anxious twinge in his voice.

"_Damnit_, Sammy. Just let it _go_," Dean barked abruptly. "I don't give a _shit_ if you didn't get to make a macaroni play house as a kid or go to amusement parks with a bunch of friends to ride the tea cups until you puked or _whatever_ the hell it is you're about to say to defend your crap way of thinking," he burbled with a frightening scowl, his hand dragging along the shape of his face. "Dad did the best he could – and so did _I_."

"_Dean_," Sam interrupted, a bit more urgently.

"_Jesus Christ_, let me finish will you," he said with irate agitation. "We _are_ family. Look, I'm sorry you didn't get the _Barbie Dream Life_ with the car and the house and the hot ass groping boyfriend to boot." Sam glowered at his brother. "But that doesn't change the fact that family isn't a loving mom, a devoted dad and then a bunch of adoring little kids to kiss goodnight. Family is everything _we_ are," he said with quiet seriousness. "Family is who you _die_ for. Family is who you protect – at _all_ costs, and love no matter _what_. Family is - "

"_Dean_," Sam cried aloud, squirming as he clutched his own fingertips.

Visibly displeased over having been interrupted, Dean whipped his neck around violently. "For Christ's sake Sammy, _what_?" he spat coarsely. Sam recoiled.

"_That_," he said awfully meekly, slinking away from his seething sibling. However, as he extended his index finger the exigency of the matter became clear.

"Oh _shit_," Dean whistled drearily, face paling as he caught sight of what his brother had been trying so desperately to get his attention with.

"Must be why Cass went so ape-shit with the text messages."

Dean nodded, a sick knot tying itself around his intestines as he gulped at the saliva pooling beneath his tongue. " – _must b_e."

Before them, the ocean's tide rose and crashed upon the sand – _over and over, again and again_ – filled to the brim with _foam_. Water choking, air smothering – big buckets of _foam._

"_Shit_," Sam said, echoing his brother's sentiment, blowing his bangs from his eyes.

"_When mermaids die that's what they_," Dean trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish his thought as he swallowed down the rising knot once more – just staring ahead at the frothy havoc before him. It wasn't normal. Never in his life had he seen such a mess of white lather – not even the time Sammy had tried to do the laundry with an entire box of detergent. " – that's what happens, right?"

"_Yeah_," Sam interjected with a rather robotic nod. How the _hell_ were they going to face Cass? They'd practically _forced_ Liesl back into the water. How could he _not_ blame them? Shaking his head he swallowed down his own throated knob of guilt. "_That's what happens_."


	27. Chapter 27: you're on candid camera

**twenty seven. **_i'm just a person but you can't take it_

- - -

Dean could hear the lung collapsing sobs pouring out from under the hotel room door's tiny crack between its wooden surface and the floorboards beneath. "_Cass_?" he called out gingerly, peering over his shoulder as Sam waited just as hesitantly behind him. "It's just us," he announced, giving the doorknob a rougher push – it refused to budge. Face contouring into a grimace, he grunted heavily – now throwing his shoulder into the motion. "What the hell _Cass_, why did you lock the door?"

The sound of something delicate shattering pierced the air – thumping against the door as though the action was directed at both hunters, followed by the imminent rainfall of broken pieces slamming angrily upon the ground. Sam recoiled immediately, wincing as shards of plastic and glass slid against the soles of his sneakers. "I think he's mad at us," he said as he inched his way backwards, shaking his feet free of the ruptured object. "I'm _pretty_ sure that was our alarm clock."

Dean's nostrils flared. "You better be _paying_ for that Cass because I'm sure as hell not," he shouted as he pounded his fists upon the door. "You can't just go around chucking hotel property whenever you damn well feel like it."

There was no response - not even the faintest hint of life from the other side of the wooden plank. "It's not our fault, Cass," Sam interjected suddenly. Tiny crowds of people had begun to form in the hallway, and both brothers shifted uncomfortably. Attracting attention was always an unwanted occurrence and they always did their best to assure that it did not happen.

"You made her _do_ it," Castiel screamed wildly.

"No one _made_ her do anything Cass," Dean barked, kicking at the door. "Now let us _in_," he commanded fiercely. It was becoming far more apparent with each passing minute that the angel's lack of Grace was causing him to fall more and more into the pit of humanity – that _disgusting_, _slimy_, _inescapable_ hole every human struggled with. Castiel's wails increased with a heady upsurge.

"Cass, it's _normal _to be upset," Sam said steadily. "But _please_ let us in so we can talk."

"_Why do they have guns_?" Dean could hear the whispers of the growing crowd which had now doubled in size. He pushed his feet side to side, yanking on the tail of his shirt in an attempt to cover the exposed pistol in his back pocket.

"Maybe they're just _cops_," another spectator replied. Dean's neck burned. He'd been called plenty of awful things in his time, but a _cop_? Well, he'd rather be known as a nut-job than a filthy pig.

"I swear to your big ol' _buddy_ upstairs, Cass. Let us in now or I _will_ shoot down the damn door," he growled. Everyone had already _seen_ the gun – there was no point ignoring it.

"Dean, give him a chance," Sam urged gently. Dean's pupils circled about.

"This is _bullshit_," he grumbled, kicking at the door once more. Turning towards the throng of look-see'ers, he glared. "Can you all please just _back off_?"

"Are you guys _actors_," a small hotel guest queried excitedly. "Are we on a show right now?" The crowd goers began to mumbled energetically between themselves. Dean massaged at his temple.

"_What?_"

"You know," the guest continued. "Like one of those reality shows? I mean you can't _really _be this much of an asshole."

Dean bared a grin. "Oh you _better_ believe it sweetheart."

"_Dean_," Sam snapped.

"Fine," Dean said. "_Yes_," he continued, acknowledging the crowd. "Your little friend here figured us out. You're all on tv – _right now_," he announced as he spread his hands in a wide range. "That's right, say hello to mom and dad or whatever."

"What're you _doing_?" Sam hissed into his brother's ear.

"Saving our asses," Dean whispered in return, brows perched in an arch. "So now that the jig's up why don't you all go back to your rooms – shows over. We just need to speak with our producer about something for a second," he mentioned, jerking his thumb towards the door.

"Can we still be on the show?"

"Are you really that stupid? I _just_ said it was over." Dean glared.

The crowd go'ers face fell. "_Oh_."

The door gave with a steady click as the lock unlatched. "_Finally_," Sam said with a sigh. "Dean c'mon," he added, motioning for the eldest hunter to follow.

"Insanity _shit_," Dean muttered. "A fucking _reality_ show? _Are they serious_?" Shaking his head as he dipped through the threshold of curious eyes and salt water smelling toes, Dean glanced at his feet – shuffling forward with a terse glare upon his countenance. "Just make sure you get to Cass before I do, Sammy," he warned his brother with a stunted growl.

Sam peered curiously through his lengthy bangs. "_Why_?"

"Because I'm _totally _going to kill him for this."


	28. Chapter 28: do genies exist

**twenty eight. **

- - -

"You're looking at this the completely wrong way," Dean bartered as he easily downed a quarter of the alcoholic beverage he had clutched between his sweaty fingers. For an island resort, they sure had seemed to forget about the _resort_ part of the deal. Nothing in the damn hotel seemed to work except for the consistently yellowing water that poured through the faucets with an equally consistently disgusting splat. "Maybe a soap-ship crashed."

Sam's brow arched questioningly. "A _soap-ship_," he said slowly, the words sounding beyond un-imaginable upon his tongue as though he couldn't decide if his brother was _truly_ that stupid.

"Yeah, you know," Dean responded with an offhand shrug. "A ship that carries soap?"

"Which in _your_ mind explains everything we saw this afternoon," Sam added snidely, snatching his brother's icy brew, gulping at the contents with a narrowed gaze.

"Better than assuming we need a coffin any time soon. _Although_," he paused with a twisted purse of the lips. "We should probably get on that _soon_. What with all the custom crap we'll need. I mean the foot area _alone_ has gotta' be twice as big to fit any damn fish tail in."

"Are you really that _stupid_, Dean?" Sam's eyes practically bulged from his head as well as the series of veins creeping along the underside of his chin.

Dean stared naively. "What?"

"Mermaids turn into _foam_. Remember your crap _soap-ship_ theory from like, less than a second ago."

"That theory was _golden_," Dean sniped nonchalantly.

"Obviously since you forgot about it so _quickly_."

"So - what's your point?" Dean glared.

"My point is why would we need a damn _coffin_ if a dead mermaid is just a bunch of stupid _foam_?" Sam shouted belligerently."I know you can't be that dumb, Dean. I just _know_ it," he added with a shake of the head.

"_Watch it_," Dean hissed warningly. "You're gonna' upset Cass," he continued, jerking his head in acknowledgment towards the slumbering creature. A faintly boyish grin crossed his lips as he caught sight of the angel's tightly shut eyes. "Can't believe what a light-weight that guy is. One beer and he's out cold like a high school freshman."

"Right." Sam rolled his eyes. "And the fact that you slipped half a box of sleeping pills in his drink had absolutely nothing to do with it."

Dean's lips fell into a shapely pout. "I had to, Sammy – all his crying and bitching about losing _true love_ or whatever the hell other nonsense, it was bringing me _down_ man. I couldn't take it anymore."

"You could've killed him."

"He's an _angel_, Sammy. Pretty sure I could push him off the _Empire State Building_ and he'd walk away without a scratch – Grace or not."

"Speaking of which, what the _hell_ are we going to do about that?"

"I dunno'. Think the _Make a Wish Foundation_ works for stuff like this?" Dean inquired hopefully.

"_Yeah_," Sam replied coldly. "You know what? _Forget_ them. While we're at it we might as well just ask Aladdin where he keeps the lamp and then we can do all the wishing ourselves – eliminate the middleman." Dean's face fell.

"All right, I get it," he said shortly, eyes darkening – however, Sam was on a roll.

"Or even better – let's go to the North Pole and see if Santa Claus' elves can whip up some Grace in their _toyshop_."

"Okay," Dean growled.

"I bet we'll get candy canes."

"I _get it_," Dean repeated with a low tone.

"I _love_ candy canes."

"Jesus Christ, Sammy. I _get it_ already."

"All right _fine_," Sam said quietly. "Look, we'll call Bobby in the morning and see if he can't ask around. We'll get this figured _out_, Dean."

"I guess." Dean's gaze shifted sideways, watching as Castiel turned against his side – saliva pooling beneath his ashen lips as his chest rose and fell unsteadily. Sleeping aides or not, Dean couldn't imagine the angel's state of being was all that restful. Stains were still streaked down the apples of his cheekbones from where he had been sobbing mercilessly – yelling and blaming until the words no longer made sense. It had taken both hunters a good three or four hours to settle him down – and then of course came the drugging. "_Totally necessary"_, Dean had insisted to himself at the time. "_For both his sanity and ours_."

"Tomorrow we'll get up early. We'll talk to Bobby and get some ideas. And then, when all of that's done we'll head back over where those hauntings are supposedly taking place and we'll do what we do best."

"Shoot shit up with salt?" Dean glanced at his brother expectantly.

"Exactly," Sam nodded. "Because – _what_ are we again, Dean?" Dean shot his brother a toothy grin, cracking his knuckles with a resounding yet almost satisfying crunch.

"What we were _born_ to be brother - _rock salt superheroes_."


	29. Chapter 29: you darn kids!

**( thanks for all the reviews! they make my day. seriously. is there anything you'd like to see in the story? i know how i'm going to finish it but i could always use ideas to make it better for you guys. ) **

* * *

**twenty nine. **_i'm not the same kid from your memory_

- - -

Dean held the pistol at arm's length, fingertip pressing relentlessly against the trigger as he shot at the spirit with a frown lingering across his stretched lips. "_Sunnovabitch_," he cursed as the ghastly apparition quickly reappeared wearing nothing but a smirk and a gaudy outfit resembling that of a Halloween pirate costume. "How _Scooby Doo_ is this, Sammy? I keep waiting for him to pull his mask off and tell us how he would've gotten away with it - "

"If it weren't for us meddling kids," Sam finished. The air resounded with a deafening _bang_ as Dean once again aimed the gun, a dreadful burst of salty spray rocketing from the barrel and back into the spirit's chest. It feigned a grimace of pain before disappearing, but it wasn't fooling anyone – especially not Dean. This was going to take a lot longer than either hunter had anticipated.

"Seriously, dude. A pirate?" Dean called out with a mockingly narrowed brow. "Next you're gonna' tell us you were shipwrecked on the island – right? _Doomed_ to protect your buried treasure for all of eternity." Irises careening about from inside his lids, he held the pistol in the air, half cocked. "_Lame_."

"_Lamer_ than lame," Sam concurred as he swiveled about, feet constantly pivoting as the sound of wind rushing past the trees echoed hauntingly.

"I've got a bad feeling we're not gonna' have any bones to burn on this guy," Dean leaned in towards his younger brother with a wary glance, eyes still peeled should the spirit return. "Might just have to scare him off."

"What makes you say that?"

"Water dripping off of 'im. _See it there_?" Dean pointed as the translucent figure darted behind a raised dune of sand. "Guy probably drowned on some costume party cruise – now he thinks he's a _real_ pirate."

"Pirate-ghost," Sam corrected aimlessly, scratching at the side of his neck. While he didn't want to lose track of the spirit, it was pretty obvious the guy was harmless – in fact he was probably more annoying than anything else. Unlike the _not so brilliant_ soap-ship theory, Dean had most likely hit the nail on the head with this one. "You know," he said as he held up a single finger as though it were a hook. "Like _arrr_."

"Whatever. I say we salt the guy a few more times and then let this one go."

Sam's brow quirked. "You – _Dean Winchester_," he enunciated slowly for effect. "Are _letting one go_?" Shaking his head, he licked his lower lip. "What happened to kill first ask question later?"

"What're you _talking_ about?" Dean glared, sending another flurry of a rock salt towards the spirit's chest.

"I'm just saying that's not the _love monkey_ I've always known," Sam ribbed lightheartedly, rather enjoying the purple hue that his brother's face took on whenever he used that phrase. "I'm just saying if you start by letting just one ghost off the hook – who knows what you'll give up on later."

"Give up?" Dean's jaw tightened. "It's not _giving up_, Sammy if it's not possible to do in the first place. The guy's probably rotting somewhere on the ocean floor. What'd you want me to _do_? Grow gills, swim down there and get 'im myself? I mean, come on – seriously. The guy's a _joke_. He's not hurting anyone. Jesus Christ, just _leave 'em alone_."

Sam tilted his head to the side, lips pursed as he examined his brother's now sternly lined features. "_So_ – then this whole trip was a waste?"

"Yeah, _I guess so_," Dean muttered unnervingly. "Look, let's just get back to the hotel okay."

"You're really in that _much_ of a rush to get back to a lumpy mattress and the world's most Debbie Downer of an angel?"

"It couldn't hurt to keep an eye on 'im." Dean fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. It itched like no other.

"Well you _did_ dope him up with enough _Ambien _to knock down an elephant for a week."

"Yeah, well I had to make sure he wouldn't just go off running around telling everyone how we killed his little girlfriend," Dean snapped. "_Look_," he backpedaled, clearly in no mood to discuss anything further at that point. "The ship leaves tomorrow and before we both have to back to pretending that we enjoy swinging off each other's arms during some mad, hot, passionate love – I think we could both use some sleep."

Sam stared at his brother blankly. "_Swinging off each other's arms_?" he repeated with genuine amusement, though he carefully stifled his grin. "_Well_ Dean," he crowed as he thumped his brother across his back with a hearty slap – the spirit still prancing about in the background, sneering and jabbing into the air. "I guess you _really _are my love monkey then. Just _promise_ me you'll do one thing?"

Dean sighed, gunning down the spirit with one last dose of salt. " _– what_?"

" – keep the poop flinging to a minimum."


	30. Chapter 30: cher versus dean winchester

**( sorry i had to re-post. it wouldn't let me just replace the chapter. was it showing up cut off mid-sentence for you guys too? ) **

* * *

**thirty. **

- - -

"_I saw her_." Castiel sat straight against the headboard of the bed – the fibrous sheets in a heap at his feet as he eyed the hunters with angelic innocence.

"Saw _who_?" Sam questioned cautiously, shutting the hotel room's door behind him quietly.

"Was it Cher?" Dean interrupted eagerly, glancing around the quarters with a panicked expression upon his countenance. "Don't listen to a _word_ she says," he warned with a narrowed brow as he darted towards the windows – fingertips running against the locks as if to ensure they were safely shut. "If she tries to tell you I have something of hers, _ignore her_. Fucking bitch is just plain nuts."

"_Cher_," Sam said slowly. "The pop-star, _Cher_." He emphasized her name as though it were too plain crazy for him to have heard his brother correctly the first time. Dean was still jolting about the hotel room, anxiously peeking through the cabinets and miniature refrigerator.

"Skanky whack job is a better term, but yeah – one and the same," Dean acknowledged with a semi-breathless nod.

"Dean, you don't _know_ Cher."

"Sure I do."

"Well then how the _hell _do you know _Cher_?"

"Dad and I did a job for her back while you were at Stanford," Dean stated plainly as though it explained everything.

"And she would be after you _because_," Sam baited.

"Who the hell knows – chick belongs in a loony bin. Two weeks after we finished I get a shitload of calls from her manager saying I stole some priceless statue of a naked chick and if I didn't return it there would be _consequences_." Shrugging the situation off, he shook his head. "Consequences – what kind of threat is that."

Sam stared perplexedly as his brother continued to scour the room from head to toe. " – _apparently_ a pretty good one." Clearing his throat guardedly, he paused. "You didn't actually _take_ the statue did you?"

"Of course not," Dean huffed haughtily.

"_Dean_."

"I'm offended you would even think that."

"_Dean_."

"Yeah, _fine_. I took it," Dean grunted in defeat. "But Sammy, you should've seen how hot this naked chick _was_. Seriously it was like a granite _Real-Doll_."

"There's not a word for how beyond disturbed I am to hear you say that."

"_Come on_, Sammy. You're always bitching about how we never had anything nice in our childhood. All she _had_ was nice stuff."

"So out of everything there you take the porno-statue."

Dean heaved a grandeur sigh. "Honestly, it's like you don't even know me half the time."

"Oh I _know_ you," Sam said with a throaty tremor, pupils rolling about. "And that's what scares me."

"_I saw her_," a feeble voice piped up timidly as Castiel repeated his previous statement, gaze transfixed upon the ceiling groggily as the sleeping pills Dean had convinced him to ingest continued their cycle – clearly at the point where they had begun to wear off.

"_Cher_?" Dean asked once more, head twirling about nervously.

"_Dean_," Sam barked with exasperation.

"_Fine_," Dean sighed. "I'll play along." Turning towards the angel, he forced a pleasant demeanor. "Who'd you _see_, Cass?"

Castiel flinched at the sound of his name, his body slumping – perhaps back into another round of slumber as he at last met the hunters' gazes. Lips parched and slightly cocked, he pointed towards the spot upon the ceiling in which he had just been watching. "_Lillith_."


	31. Chapter 31: love monkey pt 2

**thirty one. **

- - -

Dean Winchester fell to the ground – quivering hands atop his head protectively as a loud horn suddenly blasted through the ship's speakers, rattling each and every floorboard of the stained wooden deck. His heart pounded melodically, racing towards his throat as his pulse leapt unsteadily. "Please make sure _all_ of your luggage is on board and accounted for," a squawking voice pealed. "We'll be leaving the harbor shortly."

"_Dean_ – you okay?" Sam Winchester's eyes leveled with concern, narrowing against the folds of their lids as he stared ahead with caution.

"Can't we just _fly_back?" A sickly whine resonated from between the eldest hunter's pallid lips as he unfurled himself from the tightly kept ball his body had coiled into. The boat was already starting to rock and it was obvious the short time on land had erased whatever traces of sea legs he might've possessed.

"Dean, you _hate_ planes."

"And yet, they've _gotta_' be better than _this_."

"Better that _what_?"

Dean let out a miserable groan. "Having to be your damn _love monkey_ again."


	32. Chapter 32: bits of winchester boys

**thirty two. **

- - -

"God_damn_, he looks like shit." Bobby's face flickered across a pint sized screen, his voice resonating clear as day though the image of his features seemed frozen and sluggish.

"I _told_ you." Dean peered around the web camera that stood wobbling atop the tiny computer before him. Sam had managed to _borrow_ one of the cruise employee's laptops for the time being. And of course by _borrow_, he meant steal. They would return it of course – that is, if they had no more use for it.

Right now it was definitely coming in handy as Castiel sat curled beside him, panting as miniature pearls of sweat bubbled across his sallow epidermis. The heavenly beast had only been getting worse as the days progressed and with nothing but miles of water separating them from the rest of humanity, both hunters had figured they could use an outside opinion.

"Well, _shit_."

"I know," Dean concurred, gaze shifting sideways as he held the underside of his wrist against the angel's forehead. "_Sunnovabitch_ he's burning up. That can't be normal, _right_?"

"I don't have a damn clue, boy." Bobby appeared to have gotten too close to the camera on his end as now his over pixilated nostrils filled the entire screen.

"Can't you ask around?"

"And just what _exactly_ is it you want me to ask?" Bobby sniped brusquely, adjusting the edge of his baseball cap. "You _really_ want me advertising the fact that you got a defenseless minister of the Lord in the middle of _ass nowhere_ with nothing to protect him? I'm sorry Dean but it just doesn't seem like a good idea to me. These days you never know who's listening in. Can't take the chances."

"He's got _us_," Dean protested, recoiling as Castiel suddenly dropped against the squeaky wooden floorboards of the enclosed cabin. "Aw, s_hit_," he cursed despondently. "Bobby, I gotta' go."

Black static overtaking the laptop's screen, Bobby's voice could still be heard floating about through the speakers. "What the hell is going on there?"

Dean groaned as he eased the portable computer off of his lap, safely shuffling it along the comforter atop the bed. "It's just Cass," he called out a bit louder, wanting to be sure that Bobby didn't think he'd disappeared. With no visual upon the screen, he had no _idea_ what Bobby could and couldn't see.

That was the problem with all these fancy new electronics. They always failed you when you needed them the most. That's why he wouldn't let Sam buy a GPS. _Follow the road you can't get lost_. Pay attention to a talking box that tells you where to go? _Well then you're pretty much fucked the second it breaks_. Dean relied on his senses – on _himself._

"Kid's still puking?"

"Cass isn't a kid, Bobby – but yeah. It's off and on, but it's been almost a freaking _week_ _and a half_ now."

"Sounds like a blast."

"Oh, _yeah_," Dean croaked sardonically. "Mopping up the puke of the Holy all by my lonesome is just a _thrill_."

"So where there hell's your brother then?" Bobby queried with his usual drawl. Dean could hear the distinct snap of a beer bottle's cap being snapped off quickly.

"He went to check the ship out. You know, for hexes and shit. Cass said he saw Lilith back at the hotel and before fish chick got turned into soapy suds, she mentioned something along the lines that Cass was gonna' die or whatever," Dean grunted. "We just wanted to be sure, you know."

"Yeah, I get it."

Dean frowned suddenly, swatting at the angel's fingertips as the heavenly creature attempted to cover his quivering, wan lips. His body was practically convulsing, seizing with tiny waves of movement – obviously fighting the internal retaliation that threatened to burst forth from within. "Cass, we've gone _over_ this – if you're gonna' hurl, _you're gonna' hurl_," Dean chastised curtly. "Just do it and be done."

"Alright, kid. You got your hands full."

Dean grinned wryly. "Afraid of a little undigested fireworks, are we?"

"_Kid_, I got enough of that when your daddy dropped you boys off after that hot dog eating contest the summer we had that outbreak of spoiled meat. I've earned my right not to relive it, thank you very much."

"Yeah, like that was our fault."

"_Boy_, I was still cleaning bits of you and your brother off of the ceiling for a good year or so after."

"Fair enough," Dean accepted, inattentively stroking the angel's sweat stricken hair – attempting to pacify the swelling nausea he could see in the creature's eyes.

"Tell you what, I'll see what I can do about your little – _situation. _But I gotta' tell you kid, I wouldn't count on anything - _he don't look good_."

Dean nodded, chest tightening as he felt the angel break free of his grasp – half sprinting, half crawling as he lollopped towards the cabin's tiny toilet. "I _know_, Bobby." Covering his ears, he winced as the sound of bloodied vomit spattering against porcelain filled the silent quarters with a boisterous bellow. _This couldn't be how it ended_. Not like this. This couldn't be the way. "Trust me – I _know_."

* * *

Oh my gosh so who watched the first episode of the new season? How _AMAZING_ was it? This is why _Supernatural_ is one of the best shows out there. Sorry, just had to say something! I was so excited. - bittersauce


	33. Chapter 33: just a city boy

**thirty three. **_just a city boy_

- - -

"_Cass_?"

Dean's ears pricked at the sudden girlish trill, trickling from underneath the crack in the cabin's door. Instinctively his hands faltered, fumbling for the knife he had tucked between the flesh of his bare back and the fabric of his pants.

Careful not to make a sound, he slipped his muddied sneakers from his toes – gently lowering them against the wooden floor.

"He's sleeping," Dean called out cagily, scratching at the side of his face as he unsheathed the weapon – approaching the cabin's entrance with the greatest of caution.

"_Cass_?" Either the intruder on the other end of the entryway was _ignoring_ him, or just possessed _terrible_ listening skills.

Fingertips wrapping around the metal knob of the door, Dean quickly thrust it open – dagger held high in the air threateningly as his eyes narrowed into two miniature slats. Heart thumping itself still, he paused as a familiar face came into view – drenched strands of pale hair seeping over the remainder of her bruised little frame.

"Cass - _wake up_," he called over his shoulder loudly, a confident grin peeling its way over his pursed lips as he banged his fist against the wooden frame. _Sam could suck it_. "I guess it _was_ a soap-ship after all."

* * *

I haven't seen the second episode yet so don't spoil anything for me but - is it good!? I mean, I'm sure it's _GREAT_ but I am wishing I had cable right now so badly so I could be watching it with you guys. Or at least some of you guys. Did the rest of you get to see the first episode yet? Has it aired anywhere other than America?


	34. Chapter 34: one fish, two fish

**thirty four. **

- - -

"_Well_?" Dean's gaze was urgent as he stared at his younger brother, now shuffling quietly through the cabin door. Absently he scratched at his forearm. It hadn't itched like this since the ghost sickness but now, now it was practically _tenfold_ what it was before.

Sam's head was hung low, his features wincing as his left hip knocked against the tiny dresser towards his left. From the look on his face, Dean could tell his sibling was confused by the sight before him: the crumpled figure of Liesl passed out atop the mattress, snoring contentedly with her frail cheeks burrowed against Castiel's slowly rising and declining chest. Normally that sort of image by itself was far too sickeningly sweet for Dean to take but the sheer fact that it not only shut the angel _the hell up_, but almost seemed to temporarily cure the now hourly bouts of bloodied heaving that Dean was tired of cleaning up after.

Liesl stirred, her stitched upper lip curling in her sleep.

It had taken four showers, a bottle of disinfectant, and about a hundred yards of gauze but they'd managed to bandage her up quite well, if he did say so himself. In fact, Liesl had done most of the work – the wounds clearly not bothering her in the least.

"_Well_," Sam started glumly, pushing his stringy bangs away from his wavering eyes with an uncelebrated sigh. "There's definitely some _bad_ mojo going on here," he noted with a reproachful glare, checking over his shoulder as if to make sure no one – or no _thing_, had followed him. "I'd say Cass was right." He hesitated, saving one last glance for the floor as he watched his toes quake unnecessarily through the fabric of his sneakers.

Dean felt his stomach plummet. He knew every one of his brother's expressions. He knew _happy_, he knew _sad_, he knew _turn_ _off that goddamn music before I punch you in the face_. What Sam wore on his face right now? It was something Dean had never seen. He swallowed, curbing the threat his esophagus posed against the rest of his mouth. Damnit, he was _Dean Winchester_. _Dean Winchester_. Dean Winchester laughs in the face of danger and then takes the pretty girl home. So why the _hell_ was his heart beating this fast? "About what?"

Sam stared ahead blankly, his voice both demure and oddly fearless. "I'd say Lilith is on the ship."

* * *

Okay, I finally caught up and watched the second episode. Without spoiling anything for anyone who hasn't seen it you guys were RIGHT! Just such good angst. It wasn't my favorite episode to date but it was definitely amazing. How does Kripke keep doing it?


	35. Chapter 35: bond, dean bond

**thirty five. **

- - -

Dean struggled to find his footing as his brother's words hit him like a freshly wielded knife, scouring his brain for _some_ strand of his courage. Hell, he'd even take half a strand at this point because right now – quaking in his shoes as he stared his younger sibling straight in the eye, he felt something he'd never experienced before – _powerless_.

"_Excuse me_, Princess." He cleared his throat. If he couldn't find bravery, he'd sure as shit fake it. No need to let the rest of the room know he was on the verge of needing a new pair of pants. "I'm sorry," he apologized dryly, scoffing at the notion that Sam had posed as he glanced about the cabin with a look of doubt. "But I thought you just said Lilith is _here_. On the boat. _This_ boat. The freakin' good ship lollipop."

Sam stared at his brother, dumbfounded. "_Why_ would I lie about that?"

"I dunno'," Dean shrugged with ersatz nonchalance. "Maybe you've been _compromised,_" he asserted with a cautious gaze.

"What the hell are you insinuating?"

"Maybe you're a double agent or something."

"So now I'm a spy," Sam swallowed the information slowly, nodding his head as his brother's words continued to make as little sense as possible. "Like James Bond."

"_Hey_," Dean interjected sharply, fingers pointed outwards with accusation. "If anybody in our little group gets to be Bond, then it's sure as _hell _going to be me."

"Because you're an alcoholic?" Sam stifled a wry grin that had begun to part his thin lips, arms folding across his chest as he eyed his brother conspicuously.

"The _ladies_, Sammy. I get _all_ the ladies," Dean corrected chauvinistically, pride radiating across every pore of his impish face. "That's why the call me the lady killer." He flashed a brilliant smile.

Sam groaned, irises rolling. "_Nobody_ calls you that."

"They might."

"If they were in _grade school_, maybe."

Dean sulked. "_Whatever_, I'm still totally Bond."

"That's funny," Sam mused quietly. "You know, _personally_," he added for emphasis, fingertips tapping along the flannel shirt against his chest. "I always thought Bond was overcompensating. I mean, _all_ those women?" Snapping the tip of his tongue disapprovingly, he shook his head. "The dude's obviously trying to prove something."

Dean's brow quirked. "What're you trying to say?" he questioned roughly, tension molding his fists into two perfect balls.

"That you're right, Dean. You and Bond are _exactly_ alike," Sam grinned, exposing all of his teeth as he did so. He couldn't help but enjoy the purple twinge that was filling his brother's pupils. Dean twitched slightly, obviously aware as to where the conversation was headed. "You're just a bunch of closeted homos that can't resist a good girly drink."

Had the weight of Sam's earlier statement not still been holding him back, Dean would've been at his brother's throat – right then, right there. "At least I'm not a traitor," he shot back rather feebly, still appearing to be bothered by Sam's comparison. "And I am most certainly _not_ freakin' gay," he muttered beneath his breath with a sullen pout.

"You saw Cass naked," Sam pointed out. Deep down he knew he should've dropped the subject right then and there but it was so rare that he had the upper hand. It would've been a waste _not_ to take advantage.

"So did you."

"You gave him a sponge bath."

"So did _you_." Dean was practically growling now.

"You spooned him in your sleep."

"So did – _what!_?" Caught off guard, Dean's mouth was left agape, his upper lip practically convulsing along with the rest of his body. Realization dawning upon him, his stomach turned sickly and his face went blank. "_I did what_?" he posed meekly, suddenly aware that his eyes were focusing anywhere in the room – anywhere but on Castiel who despite the clamber was still happily asleep, Liesl wrapped in his grasp tenderly. Her eyes were still closed as well.

"I'm _kidding_, Dean." Sam shook his head, his voice strangely calm. He hadn't honestly thought his brother would buy that one.

Dean cleared his throat loudly. "So I'm still Bond then?" he clarified, brushing the previous comment out of his mind.

"Sure, Dean."

"The non butt-loving version, right?"

"Of course."

Dean hesitated. "_So_ – so you really think she's here?"

"Unfortunately," Sam said with a sigh. "I do."

Dean nodded. "So what the hell are we going to do?"

"Absolutely _nothing_," a feminine voice interrupted gaily, almost chirping with delight. Both hunters swiveled on their heels, turning towards the noise.

"_Lilith_," Dean snarled.

Liesl sat atop the mattress, her eyes as white as paper – smoky and vibrant all at once. Her hands were wrapped around a blade – a blade that was subsequently pressed against the quivering flesh of Castiel's neck. Despite her tiny frame she'd managed to hold him high in the air, like he was a precious doll she'd been hoping to collect. Lips pursing smugly, she tilted her head to the side as the angel writhed in her grasp – his features a dreadful combination of sick and dismayed. "What? Don't look so surprised, boys. You _actually _thought I'd let the fish live? Poor thing's been dead for days - never even made it into the water. And yet all I had to do to walk through the door was put on her meat suit and fake a few tears. I guess it just goes to show," she finished with a simple shrug, delicately tossing her pale hair over her shoulder with a precious grin. "You really _are_ as stupid as I thought."

* * *

Okay and now I've seen episode three. It was by far my favorite of the season so far. I mean there haven't been that many but this show is hitting everything it needs to hit to be awesome. I love the guy who plays the Devil. I think I've seen him before. Was he on Dexter? I mean I can just go IMDB it, I guess.

Quick question. If I wrote a sequel to this when I finish (just a few more chapters to go and sorry about the length) set during the current season would anyone want to read it? Just let me know!


	36. Chapter 36: death

**thirty six. **

- - -

Dean's lips curled with a gruesome snarl as he leapt forward. The fear has escaped him now, rushing out his pores as a furious sort of heat filled his face. "Get _out_ of fish-chick you white eyed sunnovabitch," he shrieked as he darted towards the grinning demon. Liesl's flesh was still bruised with little lavender patches across her arms and face - making her appear more human than ever. There was no way she was gone – no way that Lilith had stolen her so quickly. But she had. He knew she wasn't in there but it felt good to yell either way.

Lilith pressed the curve of the knife's blade further against Castiel's neck, inching slowly against a vein that Dean could see pulsating cruelly with panic. The angel's face was sick – green and sallow. The way he was looking at Lilith – watching her maneuver Liesl's bones and tendons so effortlessly and without care. It was obvious in that moment that even if he still _had_ his Grace, there was nothing he would be doing differently. Despite Lilith's fatalistic claim, he clearly still believed the girl he knew was still inside – screaming to get out.

Dean knew differently. A soap-ship had been an _awful _idea. Why the hell had he even thought of it in the first place? What the _hell_ was a soap-ship anyway? _Of course_ the fish was dead. Of course she'd turned to foam – or at least her blood had. Lilith had probably just cut her open, gutted her right then and there – draining her into the salty fathoms below. _And then_? Then she'd just bided her time.

_Waiting._

Waiting for them to get back on that damned death trap of the sea. How was it that everyone around them was having the time of their lives? Celebrating fresh nuptials with hula lessons, all-you-can-eat buffets, and square dancing – yet all _he'd_ managed to get was the constant headache of sea sickness, an angel with the usefulness of a _legless table_, and a brother who watched on with pathetic desperation as the rest of the world passed him by, normal and unscathed.

This whole trip _sucked_. He wanted the Impala back. He wanted that clear open stretch of road back. He wanted to sit in the cramped booth of a crappy diner and order the same over priced, under cooked hamburger he always did. He wanted his pie that was too soggy to be edible, drenched in some sort of sugary coating and fruit half on its way to being rancid – a move the chef always used rather than simply throwing anything away. God, he would give _anything_ for pie at the moment.

"I am an angel of the Lord." Castiel had spoken so quietly, Dean nearly missed it. The heavenly beast's pupils were dilated with trepidation, yet he held a steady gaze with his attacker. "You _will _let my friend go."

"No offense, Cass but your Jedi mind shit ain't gonna' work here," Dean grunted as he felt an invisible wall leap out before him. He pushed slightly at the air before his face. _No luck_. Sam seemed to be having the same problem. Dean pushed again, sweat trickling along his brow. Still, nothing moved.

Lilith had blocked them. _Five_ feet away and they couldn't budge. "Relax," she muttered as she stroked the blade against the angel's flesh gently. Four tiny droplets of blood splattered against the bed's quilt.

"Damnit, they're gonna' charge us for that." Dean's fists curled with disapproval.

Lilith shot a dull glare which seemed horribly out of place with Liesl's expressive eyes. "Glad to know where your priorities stand."

"Listen _bitch_," Dean hissed irately. "This damn cruise cost enough of an arm and a leg without you showing up to start chopping some off. So _what'dya_ say you just shove off with your winged monkeys and find as many bucket wielding scarecrows as you possibly can?"

"_Really_ – the Wicked Witch of the West." Lilith pursed Liesl's lips into a pretty frown, plainly entertained. "Because I've never heard _that_ before."

"Can you please just let Cass go?" Sam interrupted, red faced as he continued to move his hands around the invisible barricade of air – clearly searching for a hole of some kind. Something to get him through.

Her doe eyes childishly delighted, Lilith held Castiel closer towards herself. He was practically seizing now, his breathing shallow and troubled. "And _why_ would I do that?" Her voice was absolutely purring now – yet not that of a cat or of a contented animal, but of a beast. A beast of unspeakable nature. "Do you boys know how _hard_ it is to find an angel – let alone one as helpless and weak as _this_ one?" She cooed the final words, holding Castiel's cheek against her own as though speaking to an infant. "Why there's almost nothing more - _delicious_."

"Sounds pretty pathetic if you ask me," Dean countered roughly. "I mean if you're such a big bad wolf, then why catch the sick little pig?"

"He's got a point," Sam noted hesitantly, still inconspicuously feeling around the area beside him. It took all his willpower not to let out a cry of joy as his thumb suddenly popped forward – past the translucent wall with triumph.

Lilith's face went icy. "Doesn't seem very impressive to me," Dean continued with a shrug of his shoulders. "Hell, a homeless dude could bag Cass at this point. All he'd have to do is slap him on the back and he'd be going down like a Jonas Brother's fan that snuck backstage." Grinning proudly, he turned towards his younger brother – gesturing back and forth. "Get it? Going _down_ – because they say they're virgins."

Sam eyed his brother in astonishment. _Now_ – _now _was the time he made inappropriate jokes about purity ring donning pop bands? Now – with Lilith, hungry to kill and ready to burst just a few feet away. "Glad you're having fun over there," he mumbled with a shake of his head.

Dean's full mouth curved into a slight pout. Lilith growled, obviously offended by what had been said. Drawing the knife further against the nape of Castiel's neck, she wielded its blood stained tip with an angry sneer. "An angel is an angel," she clarified. Liesl's girlish voice didn't suit her words well. She sounded more like a child defending itself to a disappointed parent than anything else.

Where Sam's thumb had begun to free itself, his entire forearm now took its place. Dean had no idea how he was managing to pull this off, but at this point he didn't care. All he needed was some more time.

"Really?" Dean shook his head doubtfully."I mean he can't do any angel _stuff_. Can't pop in anywhere unexpected, can't heal the sick – hell can't even heal himself. I mean think about _that_. All the guy does is cry for about fifteen hours a day, eat a little and then quickly throw it all back up. Doesn't really sound like an _angel _does it now?"

"Kind of sounds like that chick you dated in high school for a week," Sam interjected helpfully, shooting his brother a grateful look. His shoulder had now managed to pass through.

"Naw, dude. At least that bitch had her shit _together_. I mean she got over me in what, three days?" Turning his attention towards Lilith he rolled his eyes. "_This guy_," he jerked his thumb towards the angel before continuing. "He's been a mess for weeks now. Hell, he was a mess _before_ he turned into the Holy version of flaccid."

"It's true," Sam concurred. "Liesl told me he sat and watched her for months before even _introducing_ himself and that was only because he had to."

"Because _you_ felt like mass murder of the mermaid kind one morning." Both Sam's feet and head were through now. Just his torso remained.

"You must be feeling _pretty_ stupid now, am I right?"

"Seriously, Sammy's right. This is ridiculous," Dean said with a curt shake of the head. "Just let 'em go. You might as well be holding a ball of string hostage – ain't dangerous to _nobody_."

"Unless you swallowed it," Sam noted breezily. "You'd choke to death."

"_Well_, then," Dean grunted, glaring at his brother for disproving his comparison. "As long as nobody tries to _swallow_ Cass, we'll all be fine."

"_An angel is an angel_," Lilith repeated, yet with much less gusto this time around.

"_Right_," Dean muttered sarcastically. "And this one will just happen to vomit all over you while he _doesn't _fight back. Sounds like a really _intimidating_ display of your demonic prowess. I'm sure all the other meat suit snatching sons of bitches will be _totally_ impressed."

Lilith faltered, the knife still clutched possessively in her hand. Sam was all the way through now and she still hadn't noticed. He stayed perfectly still – not wanting to make a move unless he had to.

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel murmured weakly, still hanging high in mid air – though he'd managed to somehow fold himself into the fetal position.

"Do you _see_ how unbelievably pathetic this is?" Dean pointed out.

Lilith's gaze shifted. "I don't have to mention that part," she seemed to barter with herself. "No one would ever know otherwise."

"Right," Sam snorted with a laugh. "Like Dean _wouldn't_ go running around telling every demon we ever come across," he added with sarcasm.

"Hell, I'd dedicate the rest of my life to finding _every_ last demon on this damn planet just to tell them you couldn't pick off a _real_ angel if your soulless life depended on it."

"Sure, you do fine with the _damaged_ ones," Sam praised snidely. "But why be afraid of what you can do if a toddler with a plastic mallet can do the same?"

"You'll be the joke of the entire underworld," Dean crowed quite happily. "You could kill of the entire human race and no one would ever take you seriously again."

"At least not the ones you care about."

"So tell me," Dean questioned with a sparkle illuminating his pupils passionately. "How do you think it's gonna' feel to be Hell's _bitch_? Because that's what's gonna' happen and you know it." Lilith eased the knife away, her eyes distant and furious all at the same time. "That's what I thought," Dean said with an exultant nod.

"This isn't over," Lilith hissed. "Not by a long shot." Staring at both hunters she smirked, Liesl's lips twitching as she forced them to go taut. "You _will_ be there when Lucifer is set free and believe me when I say it _will_ happen." Mouth parting with a macabre grin, she lifted Liesl's head upwards, tilting her neck back. "_Much sooner than you think_."

Black shrouds of smoke billowed out of the mermaid's throat, darting out the cabin's open window in a dizzyingly rush of a blur.

Liesl fell against the bed as Castiel slipped from her grasp, plummeting to the floor below - her neck snapping to the side as she landed against her spine. Her half opened eyes were clouded, grey and milky with no sign of light left amongst them.

Lilith had been telling the truth.

The mermaid was dead.

* * *

I think just one more chapter left. Sorry it was dragged out for so long. I can't wait for _Supernatural_ this week! The previews I've seen have made it look so incredible. I don't think I'll get to watch it though until next week so if guys get a chance just let me know how it was!


	37. Chapter 37: the french say fin

**thirty seven**.

_- - - _

"Are you _sure_ you're okay with this, Cass?" A week had passed. The cruise was done. Dean felt oddly solid as he finally stood upon sturdy ground – whole even. In the distance he could see Sam pulling into the parking lot, turning the Impala's wheel with all the gentle discretion and care Dean has insisted he use. It _was_ his baby after all.

Castiel nodded, appearing cleaner and healthier than ever – yet Dean knew the truth. The angel had _barely_ spoken since the incident in the cabin room. It had taken two days just to get him to finally close his eyes and sleep, something he still did not seem to grasp the concept of its usefulness. "You need to rest," Sam would urge, practically tugging the angel towards the sheets as Castiel would fight and writhe.

Dean didn't blame him for struggling. Who the hell in their right mind wanted to be human anyway? It wasn't anything special - _that was for sure_. Everything had the ability to hurt, the ability to break and ache and fall to pieces.

And fall to pieces he had. It had been a hard decision, yet as they stared at the lifeless body before them, they'd known in an instant what they had to do. The angel had moaned, implored with raging streams of tears down his face and thrown his fists aimlessly at both hunters – _but there had been no other choice_.

Late at night they had trudged quietly down onto the lowest dock and with heavy hearts, slipped the creature's body into the sea – where it belonged.

At once the ocean had swelled with the purest of white. If it hadn't been such a sad occasion, Dean might've found it beautiful.

Sam's large hands pressed against the horn loudly, motioning for the two figures to wrangle their way through the throng of teary eyed passengers. Everyone seemed to be reminiscing already, how it was the _best time of their lives_.

"I'll never forget you," they cried after one another with fresh snot lingering beneath their nostrils.

Dean shifted, grunting. "What the hell is this anyway, _Titanic_?"

"They're happy for the time they spent together," Castiel murmured gravely, his pupils a near onyx shade as he gazed into the distance of grinning faces and flashing cameras setting off.

"Yeah but it was like three lousy weeks," Dean griped dismissively. "What the hell do _they_ care? I mean, they're never gonna' see any of these idiots again."

"Sometimes even the shortest of time can mean the most," Castiel said a bit prophetically, still staring off into the horizon. Dean suddenly realized the angel was no longer talking about the dopey eyed tourists and his chest went tight.

"_Cass_," he began.

However, the angel cut him off with a slight shake of the head. "It's okay, Dean."

It wasn't, of course but Dean chose not to press the issue. Unused to expressing emotions outside of a robot's range, he was sure the angel was both embarrassed and exhausted from the previous few weeks' display. He wanted desperately to assure him it was all part of being human – of feelingsomething _other_ than what you've been _told _to feel. It was all okay. It was all _normal_, even. But now was not the time. Another day perhaps – when the wounds weren't still so fresh.

Sam's hands slammed against the horn for a final turn. Dean couldn't help but exhale a tiny sigh of relief, knees creaking as he bent downwards to grab the remaining two suitcases situated by his feet. It was time to _go_. The worst trip of his life was over.

_Sure_, Lilith was still out there and _sure_ the seals were still being broken left and right. The apocalypse was coming, but _damnit_ if he'd never felt more ready for it in his life.

"Get your ass in gear, let's go!" Sam shouted, his arm resting alongside the open window. Dean glared.

"Hold your damn horses, Sammy. This shit is heavier than it looks."

"Can't help it," Sam continued, just as loudly as though making sure all four hundred people within the nearest vicinity could hear – eyes glimmering devilishly. "I just _really_ wanna' get home and bang the crap out of you, you little _love monkey_ you!"

Castiel appeared horrified, obviously never having been let in on the joke. He just stared back and forth between the brothers, face ashen as his lips parted into a perfect circle. Dean was certain his neck would snap in half the way he was whirling it around in complete and total terror.

"_Love monkey, love monkey, love monkey_," Sam continued in a sing song voice – increasing with volume at each turn of phrase. Dean just grinned. Apocalypse be _damned_.

After all - if he could survive _this_, hell he could survive _anything_.

* * *

Alrighty, all done! Like I said, thanks again so much for all the reviews and what not. You guys are awesome! I'll start working on the sequel soon. I'm still trying to think of a title since the one here isn't very original. I'll probably just end up stealing one of Kripke's titles again and just changing something around. Lame of me, I know.

Thanks again you guys really make my day when you say the story is funny or serious or whatever you choose to say! I seriously love it. Sorry this isn't the greatest ending. I just didn't feel like it needed a lot.

Let me know what you think!


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